No Surrender, No Retreat
by siredmund
Summary: That they were in for more than a routine assignment came as no surprise, given the impressive amount of talent Anderson had assembled on his shiny new ship, but humanity was a lot closer to gaining a foothold on the Citadel than she had thought if the Council was seriously considering making her a spectre. It was just like something out of that ridiculous vid.
1. The Other Shoe

_Author's note: So, yeah. This happened._

_I admit I've been going a little stir-crazy waiting for March to finally arrive, so in an attempt to delay my eventual descent into madness I've started writing again. It's sort of working? I'll warn you right now, this is going to follow the events of Mass Effect fairly closely, so if you're not interested in yet another retelling – not that I blame you – then this is not the story for you. That being said, liberties will be taken and extra bits included. Hopefully you'll forgive me._

_Bioware owns my soul._

* * *

><p><em>In less than a year everything we thought we knew about the Protheans, about our world and about ourselves had been thrown into question. The Citadel lay ruins, the Council betrayed by its best, and the public was clamoring for answers only one person seemed to have. It seems ridiculous in retrospect to think that the fate of an entire galaxy full of sentient, sapient life could rest upon the shoulders of one individual, that galactic civilization could depend upon a single point of entropy. And yet we had managed it all the same.<em>

– Excerpt from _Crucible: The Forging of Humanity's First Spectre _by Jessica Wong, 2207

* * *

><p>Rumors regarding the identity of their mysterious executive officer flew about the <em>Normandy<em> with the velocity only the confined walls of a small ship could manage. The brass was being unusually tight-lipped and in the absence of any real information, the crew's inventions grew wilder with each passing hour. Names were flung about like so many grenades; Lieutenant this, Commander that. Pakti had a friend, Tanaka's cousin just made Captain, Barrett's sister was a Major; the list went on. As the acceleration approached terminal velocity and the banality of reasonable possibilities finally became too much to bare, conjecture took a turn for the farcical. After dismissing such mundane potentials as the legendary Jon Grissom and Admiral Hackett himself, speculation moved on to the even more fantastical, real-life _aliens. _Not to be impeded by actual logic – or the fact that the frigate's construction had been a co-op venture between both humans _and _aliens, and a member of said alien race was still on board – the prospect of alien involvement seemed to inspire the crew to reach new creative heights.

While he found the image of a round volus shouting commands from atop the navigation platform - suited head barely eye-level with most the crew even with the added elevation - particularly entertaining, the inherently ridiculous nature of the chatter around him in no way warranted his active attention let alone his participation. Alenko was more than happy to leave the palaver to the professionals. Asari matriarchs, krogan battlemasters, turian Primarchs. All had their time in the speculative lime-light, only to be lost in the fickle tide of military scuttlebutt. _Gossiping marines could put seasoned fishwives to shame. _Right around the time the airlock cycled open at Gagarin Station and the crew was called to form rank in CIC the churning mill hit its peak; nothing less than the Shadow Broker would satisfy now.

It was most likely because no one had really expected an actual celebrity, but the truth seemed somehow more impressive. The Hero of the Elysium. The Alliance poster-child herself.

Who hadn't seen that ridiculous series about the Blitz? Recruitment had spiked to an all-time high after the first segment hit the net, a trend the Alliance had been quick to seize upon. _Join the army; see the galaxy, save new and interesting people from vicious marauding aliens. _He was beginning to suspect several of the crew may have rode in on that particular train, not the least of whom being the corporal to his right, judging by his seeming inability to pry his eyes away from the commander.

To be fair, it was an understandable problem.

That she was pretty was not wholly remarkable in an age where genetic modification was as abundant as viral inoculations, and Shepard's fictional counterpart had her at a rather severe disadvantage on that account. Not to mention the benefits of a plethora of modern cosmetics, the existence of which the commander seemed willfully indifferent. Though her hair was admittedly a fantastic and rather improbable shade of red.

Neither was her trim figure a surprise given that over-weight marines were about as frequent as gene-mods were infrequent; and here again her doppelganger had several gifts from nature and science the real-life version lacked. And despite being nearly as tall as himself, she was somehow shorter than he had imagined.

No, there was something else about the commander the series had failed quite spectacularly to capture. Somewhere between reality and screen something vital had been lost that rendered Vid Shepard a pale imitation when compared to the real thing. It probably didn't help that her biotic resonance was humming in his teeth like a swarm of angry bees. That and she was kind of terrifying.

Still in civilian wear but looking no less out of place she stalked past the assemble crew with the easy grace of someone who'd spent a lifetime relying on sharp reflexes and sharper thinking. No mincing actress, this one. Her eyes raked through the line, sparing each officer only the briefest of glances before moving on. Those under scrutiny seemed to wilt under her gaze and he suddenly had less trouble imagining her fending off a hoard of raiding pirates armed with nothing more than a mai tai and a wedge of lemon. Of course that was completely ridiculous. Wasn't it?

He was already beginning to wonder.

If nothing else working with another biotic would be new. While many ended up enlisting, biotics were not so numerous in the fleet that they often served together for any length of time. Alliance opinion seemed to hover somewhere between the stance that they were assets too valuable to risk assigning multiple operatives to the same ship and the sentiment that if they were allowed to assemble in any sort of number they would invariably begin plotting their subjugation of the rest of humanity. That the brass had broken their first tenant did not bode extremely well for this so-called shakedown run. And if any more living legends showed up the Alliance was going to exhaust its supply. David Anderson, Joker, and now Commander Fucking Shepard? Just what the hell was going on here?

Something of his doubt must have shown on his face, as he suddenly found himself the subject of his new XO's impressive attention. He carefully blanked his expression and tried to straighten his posture as surreptitiously as possible. The ghost of smirk that played across her mouth told him she'd caught the subtle movement. _Doesn't miss much, _he observed as he stared determinedly at the point just over her left shoulder. She regarded him for a second longer as the grin vanished as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by something that looked suspiciously like... well, suspicion. She narrowed her eyes and he felt their laser focus boring straight through him and out the other side.

And then the moment was past and she was turning back to the captain, face once again impassive. As the two moved off down the corridor and the crew relaxed around him, he was not the only one to risk a sidelong glance at the pair as they disappeared into the comm room. Absolutely terrifying.

An elbow in his side brought his attention back to the soldier beside him. "What was that about?"

"I -" he began.

"Can you believe it?" the kid plowed on. "I was way off. I owe Scott ten credits, but it's totally worth it. But I thought she'd be taller."

Kaidan offered him a pained smile, his own enthusiasm curbed by the growing misgivings that there was far more at play here than any of them was aware.

* * *

><p>The transition into the Arcturus Prime Relay went all but unnoticed by the crew around her, save the steady narration from the pilot. A flash of blue and like magic they were transported half-way across known space with little more than a blip on the main screen. Shepard was impressed despite herself, but knew better than to let on. A pilot's ego was a delicate thing; too much attention and it was liable to grow unchecked until nothing short of a precision orbital strike could blast it back into place. She kept her expression neutral as she pretended not to listen to the muttered conversation between helmsman and lieutenant. Privately she agreed with Alenko; Moreau was clearly paranoid, but she was willing to forgive a few personality quirks in light of his impressive service record. And the sneaking suspicion that in this case he may be right.<p>

"They don't send Spectres on shakedown runs," she commented blandly. The lieutenant sent a glance in her direction as Joker continued to theorize about their upcoming mission. _Don't encourage him,_ the look pleaded.

_As if he needed any encouragement, _she thought wryly.

She liked pilots. It took a special kind of crazy to maneuver a flimsy tin can through the hostile vacuum of space as other hostile and equally flimsy tin cans hurled about sharp objects and lasers while the entire hostile environment (or rather a disturbing lack thereof) collaborated in the most horrific attempts to kill you. Not to mention an incredible amount of training, talent, and guts, all which made for some very interesting and very strange individuals. She made it a policy to get to know those to whom she entrusted her life on an hourly basis for the same reasons she serviced her assault rifle personally, double-checked the seals of her hard-suit before planet-fall, and tried not to piss off those who prepared her food; because Murphy was a Dick, and she took special pleasure denying him as many opportunities to screw her over as possible. The bastard didn't need any more help.

The comm chirped as the captain interrupted Moreau mid-rant. _"Joker. Status report."_

"Just cleared the relay, stealth systems up, boards are solid. And you've got a turian inbound with a depressingly absent sense of humor."

"_He's already here, Lieutenant."_

She rolled her eyes at the unseeing view-port and Alenko shook his head, clearly as impressed as she to learn that Moreau's entire foot could fit so comfortably inside his overly large mouth. For his part, Joker seemed entirely unmoved by the audible reproach in Anderson's tone.

"_And tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the comm room."_

"You catch that, Commander?"

"Tell the Captain I'm on my way," she supplied, turning away. She grinned as the voices of the two remaining marines followed her down the corridor.

"Is it me or does the Captain always sound a little pissed off?"

"Only when he's talking to you, Joker."

* * *

><p>Well, on the list of things she had not been expecting from that briefing, this had to rank pretty high. Right up there with being asked to provide uncensored audio commentary for VMR's award-winning mini-serie<em>s Skyllian Savior<em>. Ah man, if only. _Nihlus has been spending way too much time with that Jenkins kid, _she mused as Anderson laid out the details of the operation. A Spectre? Her? It was like something out of that damn vid.

The admission that they were here for more than a routine assignment came as no surprise, given the impressive amount of talent Anderson had assembled on his shiny new ship and that one of the Council's best operatives was here to babysit, but the reality of the situation had caught her completely off-guard. Humanity was a lot closer to gaining a foothold on the Citadel than she had thought if the Council was seriously considering allowing a member of such an upstart young race into one of their most highly esteemed inner circles. A Spectre. She knew she should feel honored, but all she really felt was bemusement. On second thought, maybe she should have seen this coming. It was just like something out of that damn vid.

Her woolgathering was cut short as Joker's uncharacteristically tense voice broke in. _"Captain, we've got a problem."_

"What wrong, Joker?"

_"Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You better see this."_

Gunfire and barked orders filled the room as the screen before them came to life. The camera jerked and dodged with the movement of its bearer, but through the chaos they could see a handful of soldiers under attack, pinned down by an unseen assailant. As they watched the view bucked again as the operator was pulled to the ground by another marine and the area surrounding the two was peppered with fire.

Shepard's eyes cut involuntarily to her captain, but his own were intent on the screen. The reflected light cast the fine lines developing around his eyes and mouth in stark relief and he suddenly seemed much older than his mere forty-six years. Beside him Nihlus was equally still. She was no expert on alien body language, but she was pretty sure she could recognize _grim_ in any species. She forced her attention back to the message before her. The view stabilized on one soldier's face as he reached out to hold the camera steady.

"_We're under attack,_ _taking heavy casualties, I repeat, heavy casualties! We can't – need evac – they came out of nowhere. We need -" _He was cut off abruptly as a neat round hole appeared in the armor plating over his heart and he staggered, falling out of the camera's frame. In the sky above a giant ship hovered, and then the message cut out.

The three stood in silence, eyes fixed on the dark screen. _"Everything cuts out after that, no comm traffic at all. It just goes dead."_

"Reverse and hold at thirty-eight point five," Anderson commanded. The image of the strange machine consumed the display, lightning dancing over its surface. It looked like a giant grasping hand. "Status report!"

"_Seventeen minutes out, captain, no other Alliance ships in the area."_

"Take us in Joker, fast and quiet. This mission just got a lot more complicated."


	2. Uphill Battle

_Eleven long months after the devastating attack on what was once Earth's most idyllic and promising colony, Eden Prime is still in a state of slow recovery. In addition to the spaceport, much of the surrounding farm lands were destroyed by subsequent flame, placing the colony's ability to sustain itself in serious jeopardy. Efforts by both humanitarian volunteers and Alliance governmental agencies have managed the revitalization of many essential facilities, but it may still be some time before homesteaders will brave settling on the ravaged planet once more._

- Ladan Medina, Westerlund News 2183

* * *

><p>They hit the ground at a run, images of smoke and fire seared into their minds. From the air it seemed the whole colony was alight. Despite the best efforts of his helmet's filters, Alenko's nose immediately filled with the stench of burning plastic and charred flesh. The expression on Jenkins' face said plainly that he too recognized the smell. Kaidan's heart went out to the kid. He had been so eager to see action, and now he was getting his wish in the most horrific way possible. He looked like he was going to be sick. Shepard waved him back when he moved to take the lead, but he shook his head determinedly.<p>

"I know this area, Commander. I should go first," he said, a note of urgency creeping into his tone. "Please."

Shepard gave him a hard look. "If you take point, you had damn well better keep your head in the game, _Corporal_. We have a job to do and the best way we can help anyone here is to do it."

Relief washed over his face and he visibly shook himself. "Aye, aye, ma'am."

He led them towards the settlement, the sounds of gunfire and heavy artillery muted in the distance but growing steadily closer. With every step the smoke in the sky thickened, narrowing their field of visibility and turning afternoon in to gloomy twilight. Moving past an outcropping of rock they came across the first of the bodies. What remained of them. There were maybe half a dozen sprawled forms, blackened and burned while the area around them was left untouched. Shepard knelt to examine the remains, signaling Alenko to keep watch. Behind her Jenkins took up a similar position, eyes anywhere but the charred husks. "Oh God. What happened here?" he murmured. "I never thought – this was supposed to be a simple..."

Alenko shook his head in sympathy as he took in the billowing smoke and the reddened sky. "There was never anything simple about this mission.

Shepard shot him a look as she straightened up. "Have something to share with the rest of the class, Lieutenant? When did you put that together?"

He shifted uneasily under her scrutiny, kicking himself for opening his big mouth. He'd yet to meet a superior officer who appreciated subordinates over-analyzing their orders. Usually he had the sense to keep it to himself. Usually. "Gagarin Station," he admitted.

Her brows shot up her forehead but the rest of her face remained impassive. "I'm listening."

_Jesus, does she have any idea how terrifying she can be? _"Well, uh, a simple shakedown run would have been a complete waste of talent. Ma'am. I mean, a prototype warship, an infamous pilot, two En Sevens, and a council Spectre may sound like a setup for a bad joke, but what it does not sound like is a routine mission."

She pinned him with a look akin to the one she'd given when she first boarded the _Normandy_; like an entomologist examining a specimen under a magnifying glass, unsure whether to squash him now, let him loose, or keep him in a jar for further study. "You forgot the biotic tech too smart for his own good."

_Now I've done it._ "Er, sorry, Ma'am. It's not my place to speculate."

"Oh no, there's no going back now. You've outed yourself as being halfway competent, I'm officially _making_ it you place. So if you have any more revelations you be sure to speak up."

"Er -" _I can't tell if she's serious or just fucking with me. _"Yes, Ma'am."

They resumed their careful march, passing more former residents of the devastated settlement. The commander cast her eyes about the scene, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. "Oh, and Alenko? You figure out the punch line for that joke, you be sure to fill the rest of us in. Because I'm fucking dying to hear it."

* * *

><p>The bodies were becoming more frequent as the colony loomed nearer on the horizon. Jenkins had examined the first few as though afraid he might recognize a face, but all were too desiccated to be identifiable. It was clear he was becoming more agitated as he increased their pace forward. Another pair could be seen just around the bend in their path.<p>

"Keep your head d-" Shepard began as Jenkins rounded the corner before them, but was cut off before she could finish. Ahead on the path three drones sprang to life, mounted guns coming online even as they lifted off the ground. Before he could bring his rifle up they were upon him, their fire sending him staggering back a step before he crumpled.

"_Shit_," she spat, calling up a wave of dark energy as she ducked behind the nearest boulder. She reached out with one blue hand and _pulled_ the fallen marine, sending his limp form sailing back into cover while loosing a few rounds with the pistol suddenly in the other. One of the machines exploded in a satisfying shower of sparks and shrapnel. She glanced over to confirm her lieutenant had made it to cover of his own and found him aglow with a blue barrier similar to hers, attention intent on his omni'tool. As she turned back a second drone burst apart just as she grabbed the third with a field and smashed it against the rocks behind. She remained huddled in position for a moment longer, but when no more enemies were forthcoming and her HUD remained clear, she cautiously stepped out of cover.

"Perimeter secure," Alenko supplied quietly, straightening from a crouch and moving to where Jenkins lay motionless. Shepard watched from his shoulder as he carefully rolled over the still form and searched the suit's interface for vital signs. Even from her vantage point she could see the readings were inactive.

"Damnit," she whispered. _God fucking damnit._

"Ripped right through his shields. Never had a chance." His voice was tight with frustration as he gently closed the younger man's vacant eyes. When he turned to look up at her his face grim. Grim. _That was becoming the word for this mission,_ she thought angrily. _What the hell was I thinking, letting him go first?_ She forced the fist at her side to unclench. No one could have foreseen this. She wadded up the self-doubt and distress and shoved back into the farthest corner of her mind. Later. Right now they needed to press on if they were to have any hope of getting a handle on the situation.

"We can't help him now," she found herself saying, "but we sure as hell won't leave him here. We'll send a team back as soon as the beacon is secure."

The lieutenant gave a terse nod. "Aye aye, ma'am."

She opened her mouth to add that he needed to stay focused, to say that the colony was counting on them, that getting to the beacon was the most important thing, but the look on his face made her closed it again. He didn't need to be told. Instead she returned the gesture with a jerk of her head. _Good_, she thought. _One less thing to worry about._

* * *

><p>A stray round clipped the edge of the rock just above her head and the gunnery chief flinched, pressing her back more firmly to the smooth stone. The interface of the assault rifle in her hands flashed red accusingly, overheated once more. <em>Fantastic<em>. She dropped it to the ground in disgust and unholstered her sidearm. A quick glance around the side of her impromptu shelter revealed the mechanical form slowly advancing on her position. Behind it another finished its ministrations on the captive colonist and moved to join its companion. She loosed a few shots, but the rounds bounced harmlessly off of the things' glowing shields. The two returned fire and she ducked back.

_Damnit_. Habit made she glanced to her side, to where Bhatia should have been. But she was gone._ Damnit, damnit, damnit._ She swung around the wall again, unloading several ineffectual rounds into the approaching geth before she was forced to withdraw again. They were all gone. No one was coming. Fear weaved an icy tendril up her spine, but she stamped it back down, replacing it with a wave of anger. If she was going down she was taking as many of those mechanical bastards with her as she could.

At her feet the rifle beeped, display blue once more. She scooped it up, cradling it to her chest as one might a small child. _Enough of this._ She braced to renew her attack.

More gunfire reached her ears, but this time from behind. Her head whipped towards the sound. Stalking down the hillside towards her was the most welcome sight she had ever seen. Reinforcements. _Thank God._ The pair of marines quickly took cover behind what was left of a concrete wall, drawing the enemy's fire with them. As if in greeting, the machine on the right collapsed in a spray of parts and fluids and the second staggered backwards. Taking the opportunity, she finished it off with a quick volley of fire. Her eyes searched around for another target, but there were none in sight.

"Clear," announced the nearer of the two newcomers as the blue aura surrounding him faded.

The other dropped hers as well, approaching where the chief stood. "Are you injured, soldier?"

She could only stare at her.

"What's the status here?" the woman persisted.

Coming to her senses at last she threw up a hasty salute. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212, Ma'am." Then, because she couldn't keep the ridiculous grin from spreading across her face, she added, "I thought the Cavalry was supposed to ride in on horses."

* * *

><p>Nihlus was still warm when they reached him, his assailant couldn't have been more than a few minutes ahead. "Goddamnit," Shepard swore. Alenko knelt down to check for life-signs, deja vu joining the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. The turian had been shot in the back of the head. Point blank. Either someone had caught him unaware, or he had let them get that close. He was having a hard time deciding which was worse.<p>

A noise behind them brought all three marines' weapons around to bear and a cowering civilian emerged from behind a stack of crates, arms stretched high above his head.

"Wait! Don't – don't shoot!" The man was a wreck; he face and clothing smudged with soot and sweat and his entire body quaked with fear.

Shepard lowered her gun. "What happened here?" she demanded.

"My name's Powell," said the man, letting his hands fall to his sides. "I saw what happened to that turian. The other one shot him."

"What other one?" Williams asked, stepping forward.

"The other turian. He got here first. He was waiting when your friend showed up. He called him Saren." The commander and Alenko shared a questioning look._ A turian? _he wondered. _Working with the geth?_

"This other turian. He shot Nihlus?" asked Shepard, and Powell nodded.

"Your friend seemed to relax. He let his guard down. And Saren killed him. Shot him right in the back. I'm just lucky he didn't see me."

"Do you know what he wanted?" she pressed.

"They're probably after that beacon thing!" His eyes took on a fevered gleam. "They killed everyone. Everyone! If I hadn't been behind the crate's I'd be dead, too!"

"And just how come you're the only one who survived?" Williams asked, eyes narrowing.

Kaidan left his attention drift as the chief laid into the dock worker for sleeping on the job, his thoughts already trying to wrap around this new mystery. Why would a turian be helping a race of machines that hadn't been seen this side of the veil in over two hundred years? And not just any turian, one Nihlus knew well enough to trust with his life? Whose presence he didn't automatically question, even in the middle of a human colony? Who was this Saren?

The commander had an easier question. "Where did he go?"

Powell looked relieved to shift the subject away from his own transgressions. "He took the cargo train to the spaceport," he said, pointing off into the distance.

"Right," she said. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>More geth were waiting for them at the transit center. His HUD went haywire seconds before the first round skittered off Shepard's armor. "Down," she ordered as they took cover as best as they could in the open stairwell. One of the machines appeared at the base of the stairs, but Alenko was ready for it. With practiced ease he swept his arm towards the geth, the blue aura leaving his hand and engulfing the mechanoid, sending it careening off the platform.<p>

"Cover me."

_Wait, what? _He turned back just in time to witness his executive officer reach up, grasp the top of the stair wall and vault herself over. _Oh crap._ Launching himself up from a crouch he slung his rifle on to the ledge, firing rather indiscriminately into the crowd of geth. Williams joined him a split-second later. Fifteen feet below him on the platform Shepard was rolling to her feet, moving to take cover behind a metal crate of questionable integrity and prepping what looked to be a grenade. Sure enough, a quick throwing-motion later and the cluster before her scattered; some of their own volition, but even more were sent flying from the blast. Abandoning the crate in favor of a concrete wall, she gestured for Williams and himself to take position at the far end of the platform before leaning around to lay down suppressive fire.

The two sprinted the last few meters between themselves and concealment, coming to rest behind another wall. By now the geth had regrouped, falling back in the direction of the train and taking refuge behind one of the many stacks of crates. Shepard stalked towards them, taking shots here and there as the opportunities presented themselves, Alenko and Williams close on her heels. When they had caught up she paused for a moment against a canister of her own.

"Alenko, on my mark I need you to get rid of those crates." She gestured to the cartons currently harboring their targets far off down the platform. "Williams, take your shots as you find them –" She was cut off as the chief's rifle barked a quick staccato, and was rewarded by a metallic clang as one of the machines fell to the deck.

She lowered the gun. "Sorry ma'am, you were saying?"

"Carry on, Chief." Shepard patted her shoulder as she moved past.

"Where are you going?" Alenko asked after her as she disappeared behind another stack.

"To get closer," she called back.

The two remaining marines shared a look. "I don't think I like -" Williams began.

"- where this is going." Alenko finished. "Maybe -"

"Mark!"

* * *

><p>She was ready with another grenade when the crates abruptly launched themselves into the air. The moment it left her fingers she was mobile again, prepping a mnemonic as she sprinted to the next bit of cover. The blast littered the area with bits of shrapnel, but there were still maybe half a dozen of the walking toasters left. Grabbing a smaller crate with a field as she passed, she sent it barreling into the first of the geth coming her way. The box connected with a satisfying crunch and machine was swept off the edge. Still clutching the canister in her biotic grip, she swung it around to smash into another target. This one was ready for her, bracing itself and taking the impact with a raised appendage. Its structural integrity already compromised, the flimsy carton sheared in half when it met with superior construction. Somewhat winded, she dropped the two pieces with a clatter and loosed a volley from her assault rifle into the mechanoid before it could resume its advance. As it fell she took quick stock of the situation.<p>

While she had been playing croquet with her pair, Alenko and Williams had claimed one each. _Go team. _That left probably two unaccounted for, and her HUD was still down. She'd have to talk to the lieutenant about that later, maybe he could figure out a way to block whatever was blocking them. In the meantime they'd have to search the old fashioned way.

As it turned out, there weren't a whole lot of places an eleven-foot-tall sentient machine could hide. Rounding the corner of a rather haphazard stack of canisters, she caught sight of the towering geth. Ducking back into cover the team opened fire, but it quickly disappeared from view.

_Because we wouldn't want this to be easy_ – "Williams, head around the side, try to flush it out. And keep your eyes open, we're still one food-processor short. Alenko, head around –"

Ahead of them the pile of crates exploded, sending their contents flying. The geth in question advanced towards them, packing materials and plastic shards clinging to its form, along with what looked to be several pillows worth of down feathers. All this was taken in at a glance as Shepard hurled herself behind another carton, clotheslining her lieutenant in the process and hauling Williams down after them. They landed in a heap as slugs tore through the space where they had only recently stood, embedding themselves in the boxes beyond. When there was a break in the fire she shoved her marines towards the more substantial cover of a nearby wall. "Move!"

As the two broke for the barrier she provided cover fire, keeping the thing at bay. She made to follow, but the crate hurtling her direction forced her to duck back down. _Son of a_ –. It shattered on contact with her canister, showering her with shrapnel and overripe produce. She looked up just in time to see her foe charging straight towards her and her fragile cover. It was all she could do to throw up a hasty field around herself before the thing was upon her, slamming the crate forward and pinning her between it and another.

"Commander!" She was dimly aware of one of her companions calling out, but she couldn't be bothered to figure out which one just now. Her barrier had protected her organs from being reduced to a fine paste, but all the air in her lungs had been forcefully expelled upon impact and she was having trouble refilling them. Wheezing, she lashed out instinctively with a blue fist, connecting with something hard and unyielding. The blow wasn't enough to do any damage, but the biotic force sent her assailant staggering back a step. Taking advantage of its distraction, she summoned all the force she had and _threw_ it. The massive geth barely lifted off the decking, but the attack was enough to send it stumbling back against the railing. Its arms pinwheeled cartoonishly as it fought for balance before a second field joined hers, forcing it over the side.

"Hell, Commander, save some for the rest of us," came a voice near her right ear. Williams was at her side, shoving the deformed canister away. Behind her Alenko was lowering his arm, the corona of dark energy around him fading.

"Nice timing there, Lieutenant," she coughed.

"Better timing would have sent it over the edge _before_ it charged you, Commander."

She couldn't argue with that logic. "Any sign of the other one?"

Williams gestured to an inert form up the way.

Shepard nodded. _Go team._

* * *

><p>He was definitely going to have to reevaluate his previous stance concerning the commander's lethality in conjunction with fruity cocktails. Having now seen her in action, any lingering doubt concerning her abilities was long put out to pasture. She was incredible. As he watched, she swept the last of the geth into the air as the chief expertly drilled it full of holes. She probably hadn't even needed that wedge of lemon.<p>

"It's no fun when you hold them still, ma'am," complained Williams.

"Next time I'll be sure to give it a toss first," Shepard promised dryly. Pressing a hand to her ear, she hailed the ship. "_Normandy_. The beacon is secure, request immediate extraction." She moved away as she consulted with Joker.

Williams joined him as he beheld the artifact. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The surface was bathed in energy, oscillating with light and emitting a barely audible, throbbing hum. From its apex shot a beam of energy, piercing the smoke and clouds above and disappearing into the sky. The chief regarded it with bewildered look. "It wasn't doing anything like that when they dug it up."

She eyed it suspiciously a moment, then turned away to join the commander.

"Something must have activated it..." he trailed off as he approached. It pulsed and glittered invitingly. Amazing. What kind of power source could still be viable after thousands of years? It must be based on tech similar to the relays. So engrossed was he in his extrapolations that he failed to notice the faint tug of a mass effect field until it had grabbed a hold of him, pulling steadily him towards the beacon.

He flung his weight backwards, attempting to break the field's hold, but succeeded only in unbalancing himself. Without both feet braced against it, his slide towards the artifact hastened. Voices beyond his range of hearing whispered and sang in his head, growing louder with each moment. His vision swam sickeningly. He had time for a brief flash of panic before arms were encircling his waist, hauling him back and before he had registered what was happening he was on the ground, rolling away. He looked up in time to see the commander as she was yanked off her feet in his place, hoisted into the air by an unseen force.

"Shepard!" He lurched forward, but Williams was beside him holding him back, her grip on his arm like a vice.

"No, don't!"

The two watched in horror as the commander hung in midair, the energy from the beacon surrounding her and the hum increasing to a dull roar. Her face was a mask of pain as she struggled to turn away from the source, eyes screwed shut and breath coming in short strained gasps. It was a losing battle. As the roar became a wail her head was brutally wrenched forward. Her eyes flew open as the light engulfed her.

With a brilliant flare the beacon exploded. Shepard was thrown to the ground, landing hard on her side where she lay still in a tangle of limbs and debris. Alenko freed himself from the chief's hold and scrambled to her side. _No. Not her, too._ Her suit's medical interface was dead, fried by the energy pulse. Yanking off his gloves, he released the seals on her helmet and carefully removed it from her limp shoulders. He cradled her head, fingers moving to her throat seeking a pulse. Thready, but present. _Thank god._

"Is she –?" Williams crouched down next to them.

He shook his head. "She's alive. I can't tell much more."

"What the hell happened?"

He shook his head again, sliding a hand back to support her mercifully unbroken neck and easing her onto her back. Her face was pale and drawn, lids closed over restless eyes. A tremor passed through her as he held her. Then another. This was way beyond his abilities as a field medic. They needed to get her back to the ship before she got any worse. Before he fucked anything else up.


	3. The Morning After

_They come almost every night now, since we found the last piece. If I close my eyes I can almost remember, but it's like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. We figured it was a warning, but I'm sure now that it's much more. I still don't understand all of it, but I don't need to. Not for this. I know where he's going now. _

- Excerpt from the personal log of Lieutenant Commander V. Shepard

* * *

><p>One of the problems with serving on a small ship in the middle of deep space, along with expected inconveniences like limited privacy, long stretches of inactivity, and food that shared similar characteristics with cardboard, was the lack of a good place to pace. Real-estate was always at a premium on a starship. Sure, the <em>Normandy<em> had space in the hold for basic PT, but the area was limited and even in third shift rarely empty. Pacing didn't lend itself well to having an audience.

Williams had the right idea. After the debrief she commandeered the weapons station opposite the Mako, approaching the task of cleaning her ravaged equipment with the same ferocity that had previously been reserved only for those who found themselves at the business end of her rifle. Last he'd checked she had completely dismantled every weapon she'd been carrying, as well as all of Shepard's, and some spares she'd found god-knows-where, assaulting all with a fine-toothed comb. The rest of the crew was giving her a wide berth.

At least she was making good use of her time. After conveying the unconscious commander to the infirmary Alenko had lingered there as long as possible, but it soon became clear to both him and Dr. Chakwas that there was little either could do for her in her present state. Whether out of courtesy or pity, Chakwas allowed him to loiter in her med bay, but eventually even he couldn't deny the futility of his presence. He excused himself to the mess hall where the churning in his stomach prevented him from doing little more than push his food from one side of the plate to the other.

The usual mess traffic ebbed and flowed around him, noticeably solemn when compared to the animation of the previous trip. That one soldier had been brought back on a stretcher and two more in boxes had wiped clean any lingering excitement left by the formation of a brand new crew on a brand new boat. Two deaths so early did not bode well for the rest of the tour. No one wanted to make it three.

He glanced up as the med bay door slid open, but it was only Anderson, no doubt checking on his XO's condition. He was neither the first nor likely to be the last. Shepard was well liked by everyone on the _Normandy_, despite the brevity of their association. Bonds formed quickly in the military, a necessity of active service, and the commander had a way of charming everyone she met.

Alenko sighed and pushed back from the table. He'd delay the inevitable long enough. But upon retiring to his pod, sleep proved about as evasive as his as his appetite, displaced by unhelpful thoughts of the failed mission and of death. Damnit, it wasn't as if this was the first crew-mate he'd lost, he wasn't some raw recruit fresh off Arcturus. Soldiers die. Young soldiers just as easily as old. Easier. And Shepard... No. She wasn't going to die. She wasn't. The prospect that, after losing both Jenkins and Nihlus, the entirety of the 212 save one, and then the beacon itself, that they would lose her as well was made all the more unbearable by the knowledge that, unlike the other deaths, hers would be his fault alone. She wasn't going to die.

Eventually he gave up rest as a lost cause and clambered out of the capsule. The deck was empty, the lights all dimmed but for the green LED display on the auto-chef. He shuffled over and received a spectacularly awful mug of coffee and sat in the mess gazing into its depths until the rest of first-shift began to trickle in around him.

Being assigned to marine detail meant there wasn't much to occupy his time when the _Normandy_ was in deep space. While he was fully trained as a technician, it was generally the engineering team that handled the actual task of running the ship. For the most part it was his job to keep his marines from doing something stupid in the name of boredom, but in the subdued atmosphere following in the wake the mission there was little to mediate. Desperation for work ultimately found him with his head buried in the electrical panel near the captain's quarters, chasing an errant short that was causing the 'chef to spit out burnt toast in lieu of the requested chicken soup.

He did not bother to justify his chosen location to himself; there was no denying that he had selected this panel for any reason other than as an unobtrusive and logistical vantage point from which to observe the med bay door. It had become vital that he know the moment there was any change in Shepard's condition. Any other day he may have been concerned with this new-found obsession with his superior officer, but this did not seem the time to over-analyze motives. Aside from being directly responsible for said condition, he genuinely liked her. And, more importantly, he respected her. In a few short hours she'd disarmed enough explosives to level a city block, beaten back an enemy force the likes of which hadn't been seen in over two centuries, saved countless civilian lives, and punched a geth in the face with a packing crate. She was resourceful, pragmatic and clever, but compassionate and insightful as well. Also bat-shit insane. In a good way. It would be a complete waste to lose her to a stupid accident.

His cunning scheme to observe the comings and goings of the infirmary whilst also keeping busy had one critical flaw; he was entirely too busy justifying the plan to himself to effectively execute it. The second time his hand brushed the same live wire he decided working on sensitive electrical equipment was perhaps not the best idea when his mind was otherwise occupied. The contact had resulted in a rather painful burn and his skin was already blistering. At least now he had an excuse to visit the infirmary. _Oh yeah, real subtle__. No one will ever see through this clever ruse._

The room was empty now, save for the commander. Her armor was gone, leaving her clad only in the thin jumpsuit worn underneath and a sheet that had been thrown over her for warmth. As he drew closer the monitors tracking her vitals reassured him that she still breathed, as her still form gave little indication. Her already pale skin seemed especially translucent in the blue light from the machinery, and her hair had been pushed back from her face, revealing dark bruises under her eyes. The combination gave her an ethereal look, unearthly and fragile, like she might fade away right in front of him. In sleep her usual detached mask softened into something closer to ease, a placid tranquility that belied the fire and determination that filled her waking moments. Hard to imagine this was the same woman who only hours before was tossing around geth troopers like they were made of paper.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't why he was here. Well, it was, but not ostensibly. If someone were to walk in on him watching the commander sleep, it would make for some awkward questions, legitimate excuse or no. There were illusions to be maintained.

He was sifting through the first-aid supplies in search of antiseptic when he heard a soft inhalation. He looked back in time to see her stir.

"Doctor," he found himself calling, "Doctor Chakwas? I think she's waking up." The muffled sounds of movement came from the adjoining room as he turned to the commander. Her eyes were screwed closed as if she were trying to decide whether or not she dared open them, or as if she were trying to remember how. She eased them carefully open, squinting in even the dim light. The relief that flooded through him made him feel light headed. Thank god.

"Commander, are you okay?" He worked to keep the concern in his voice at a professional-sounding level.

She blinked up at him, brows knitting together in confusion. "What -" She coughed and tried again. "What happened?" He stepped back as she made to sit up. It took two tries, but eventually she managed to swing her legs over the side of the cot. She pressed a hand to her head, grimacing. Before he could answer Chakwas emerged from the back room, her short hair mussed from sleep. She shot him a searching look, eyes flicking down to the box of bandages still clutched in his hand, before crossing to her patient. "You had us worried, Shepard. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she lied, the fingers digging deep into her temple a blatant contradiction. She glanced around the room and back at him. "What – are we in FTL? How long was I out?"

Chakwas tisked. "About fifteen hours."

"Fifteen _hours_? You're shitting me."

"I'm afraid not, Commander. Something happened down there with the beacon."

"It's my fault." Shepard glanced at him over her shoulder and it took everything he had to meet her gaze. "I must have triggered some kind of security field when I approached it. You had to push me out of the way." He braced himself to the reproach he deserved, the rebuke that neither Anderson nor Chakwas seemed willing to give him. For her to tell him what he'd been telling himself since they left the colony; that he had screwed up.

Instead she shook her head. "Don't blame yourself. You had no way to know what would happen."

The tension coiling around his stomach loosened its stranglehold by degrees and he felt a relieved grin threaten at the corners of his mouth. She didn't blame him. She probably should. She definitely should. But Williams had used virtually Shepard's exact words when she told him he was being dense, maybe they were right. He hadn't been willing to consider that option until this very moment.

"The Captain and I have both told him as much," Chakwas said mildly, "perhaps now that we have all formed a consensus he will be inclined to believe it. The truth is we don't even know if that's what set it off. Unfortunately, we will never get the chance to find out."

Shepard gave the two of them a questioning look.

"The beacon exploded," he explained. "A system overload maybe. The blast knocked you cold. Williams and I had to carry you back here to the ship."

"I appreciate it." She slid the rest of the way off the cot, bare feet meeting the deck with a soft slap.

The doctor moved to examine the readouts on the monitor. "Physically you're fine. But I detected some unusual brain activity, abnormal beta waves. I also noticed an increase on your rapid eye movement, signs typically associated with intense dreaming."

"I saw..." She closed her eyes, frowning. "I'm not sure what I saw. Death, destruction. Nothing's really clear." She shook her head again and opened her eyes.

Chakwas eyed the commander, her detached demeanor cracking around the edges to reveal a glimpse of mild concern underneath. He was glad Shepard had her back to him, as he was pretty sure there was nothing mild about the concern on his own face. _Great. I broke my executive officer's brain._

"Hmm. I'd better add this to my report. It may -"

The far door slid open and Captain Anderson strode into the room. A relieved look spread across his craggy face at the sight of Shepard on her feet. "How's our Ex Oh holding up, Doctor?"

"Well, all the readings look normal. I'd say the Commander's going to be fine."

He nodded. "Glad to hear it. Shepard, I need to speak with you – in private."

* * *

><p>Williams was alone at the table when he entered the mess hall, staring into a mug of cold coffee as if it contained the secrets of the universe. He crossed to the auto-chef and ordered two more, swapping out a fresh mug for the chief's as he sat down beside her. She mumbled her thanks, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. Her eyes darted over to the closed door behind him and then flicked up to meet his. He nodded and saw his own relief reflected in her expression. She sighed and leaned back from her hunched position, finally raising her mug to her lips.<p>

They sat in silence for a while, until the door whooshed open and the captain strode out, followed by Shepard a few minutes later. Some of the color had returned to her face and she was no longer barefoot as she headed straight for the 'chef. She joined them where they sat, tray heaped high with food.

She regarded them both from across the table. "How are you two holding up?"

_Better_. "Holding, ma'am. Losing Jenkins was hard on the crew, I'm just glad we didn't lose you, too."

"Part of me feels guilty over what happened," said Williams. "If he was still alive, I might not be here."

Shepard shook her head. "You're a good solder, Williams. You belong on the _Normandy_."

"Thanks Commander."

"You sure you're ok?" It wasn't really a question.

The chief stared down at her clasped hands and shrugged. "I've had friends die before. Comes with being a marine. But to see my whole unit wiped out..." She sighed and looked up. "I don't know. And you never get used to seeing dead civilians."

"Doesn't seem right," Alenko agreed. "But at least you stopped Saren from wiping out the whole colony, Commander."

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't sell yourself short, I couldn't have done it without either of you. I just wish the price hadn't been as steep. I should have left him on the ship." She grimaced, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Alenko frowned. "I was there. You did everything right, it was just... bad luck. Who'd have guessed that the geth would show up after all this time? Or that one spectre would end up killing another? The Council's going to have kittens. Probably use it to lever more concession out of the Alliance."

Shepard snorted into her coffee. "Alenko, why do I get the feeling you're completely wasted as a ground-pounder?"

He gave an embarrassed shrug. "Not a whole lot of employers outside of the Alliance want to risk hiring biotics. We're not restricted, but we sure don't go undocumented. May as well get a paycheck for it. Besides, my father served. It made him proud when I enlisted. Eventually." He paused, wondering if he had volunteered too much. It had just been an idle question, she wasn't asking for his life story. Still, she seemed genuinely interested. He shrugged again. "And besides, the military has all the best tech."

"Spoken like a true nerd, El Tee," Williams said.

"I take it you're not here for the ray guns and hover-cars, Chief?"

"No, I'm here for the coffee." She took a pull from her mug and all three shared a rueful grin. "I have to admit," she continued, setting the cup aside, "I was a little worried about being assigned to the _Normandy_. It's nice when someone makes you feel welcome."

"I think you're going to fit in here just fine, Williams," Shepard said, still smiling.

"Thanks," said Williams. "That means a lot coming from you. I've never met anyone who was awarded the Star of Terra."

A shadow passed over the commander's face. She glanced down, as if only just remembering the food in front of her. "There's nothing special about me, Williams. Anyone would have done the same."

The chief seemed oblivious to the change in Shepard's mood. "Held off an entire enemy platoon? Alone? With all due respect, Commander, I think you've got somebody watching over you."

He'd have been hard-pressed to describe in words what exactly it was about the commander that changed, but the distance separating them was suddenly much farther across than the mere span of a table. Though her expression didn't alter, it was as if a steel door had been slammed shut behind her eyes and her whole demeanor frosted over.

"Yes," she said, "that is the official story." A chilly silence fell as she resumed her meal.

"Uh, word is we're heading for the Citadel, ma'am," he ventured. "Can you tell us why?"

The mask stayed in place, but some of the ice began to thaw as Shepard took to the new topic more readily. "The Captain hopes the Ambassador can get an audience with the Council. We need to tell them what Saren's been up to."

"Makes sense," he agreed readily. "They'd probably like to know he's not working for them anymore. Whatever happens, we'll be ready, Commander."

* * *

><p>They clustered around the view-ports like school children on a field trip. He might have found their presence intrusive, if they hadn't been so adorable. It was priceless. Even the commander was not quite able to disguise a look of wonder as the Citadel came into view. Joker hid a grin. Priceless.<p>

She'd stomped up to the bridge with her Commander Fucking Shepard mask ratcheted into place, but the sight of the Citadel was enough to soften even the stoniest of exteriors. Framed from behind by the cold light of the Widow, dust from the nebula curled around its petal-shaped arms like predawn fog. As they drew nearer the wards came alive, dew-drops of light glittering off the thousands of buildings and structures. For one insane moment he was convinced he could hear birdsong. The early morning imagery was somewhat spoiled by the asari dreadnought patrolling the approach to the station.

"Look at the size of that ship," Williams gawked.

"The _Ascension_," Alenko supplied. "Flag ship of the Citadel Fleet."

Joker snorted. "Well, size isn't everything."

"Why so touchy, Joker?" Williams leered at him over her shoulder.

"I'm just saying, you need firepower, too."

She whistled. "Look at that monster, its main gun could rip through the barriers of any ship in the Alliance Fleet."

_They'd have to catch us, first._

"Good thing it's on our side, then," Alenko said.

Smirking, Joker opened a comm channel. "Citadel Control this is the_ SSV Normandy_. Requesting permission to land."

"Clearance granted," came the reply. "You may begin your approach."


	4. A Time and a Place

_It occurred to me only later to wonder if the Alliance hadn't just thrown Shepard to the wolves in all sense of the idiom. We had no plan and precious little evidence, yet we rushed headlong into a confrontation with one of the Council's best and most ruthless operatives. It comes as little surprise to me now that things went the way they did. Hindsight has a way of coming back around to kick you in the ass._

– Excerpt for a private interview with former captain David Anderson

* * *

><p><p>

There were few things more surreal than the sight of four human marines clad in dress blues striding purposefully through a perfectly manicured garden, complete with green grass, grown trees, blue "sky" and sparkling lake in the middle of an alien space station light-years away from the nearest planet with an atmosphere. One of those few things was actually being one of the four human marines. Shepard shook her head. It was just like something out of that damn vid. _Hopefully one day I'll get to stop making these __comparisons__. Should I be concerned that my life seems to have more in common with pulpy science __fiction than__ anything resembling reality?_

They strode past a placid, jellyfish-like hanar, its melodic voice ringing out across the courtyard singing praises to the Enkindlers, garishly printed pamphlets clutched tightly in a fuchsia noodly appendage. Beside it a turian at the end of his wits tried patiently to explain that while the hanar's religious beliefs were not under scrutiny and this was by no means a form of persecution, as this was not a designated preaching area the hanar would need a proper permit if it wished to continue pontificating.

_Yes. Yes, I should be concerned._

If someone handed her a glass with pink contents and a tiny umbrella, she was done. Finished. Catching the next boat back to Earth and opening up a restaurant in the most backwater, hick-town she could find, far, far away from anything even remotely alien-related. Because at that point it would be evident that the vid series had finally absorbed reality completely.

Fortunately for all involved, no gaily colored cocktails presented themselves and the four were left in peace as they approached Ambassador Udina's office. Upon arrival that peace was shattered by the ambassador himself, caught in the midst of a fervent debate with the holographic projections of the three Council members.

_Who says diplomacy is dead? _She managed to keep from rolling her eyes - only just - and fell into parade rest behind Anderson, settling in for what looked to be quite the show.

It soon became clear that any heat was purely one-sided, as the councilors calmly deflected the gesticulating man's accusations of a council-species bias. As the four of them waited, Udina continued to harangue the Council until finally they had enough and terminated the call mid-rant. He huffed for a minute before turning his attention to his visitors, more or less picking right up from where he'd left off with the councilors.

* * *

><p><p>

"Is that guy for real?" Williams watched the ambassador stalk out of the council chamber, disbelief plain on her face.

"'Fraid so, Chief." She kept her tone carefully neutral, but in the privacy of her own mind Shepard allowed herself to share some of the chief's disgust. She'd met drill sergeants with more tact than this so-called ambassador. Why was it that people with titles like "Representative" and "Delegate" were always the _least_ diplomatic? If humanity managed to get a foothold in the Council, it would be despite Udina's efforts, not because of them.

The meeting with the Council had gone about as well as she had expected, which was to say not well at all. She hated to admit it, but they were right; she had no proof of Saren's involvement outside of Powell's testimony, and even she was hesitant to take anything that man said at face value. They were going to have to dig up something better if they were to have any hope in reining in that smug bastard. With any luck the C-Sec officer would have something of use.

"This is bullshit, I can't believe the Council ignored the evidence against Saren," Williams burst out. Shepard glanced over her shoulder at the younger woman. She took no notice, busying herself with trying to glare a hole through the bottom of the lift. If there was one thing the commander learning to respect about the chief, it was that she was not afraid to speak her mind. Anywhere else that would most likely spell big trouble for her career, but not here. As far as Shepard was concerned, she had earned that right. Now if only the lieutenant would learn from her shining example.

"Saren's one of their best operatives," said Alenko, shrugging. "It's only natural they'd take his word over ours."

Williams gave him a withering look. "Oh, so now we just chase leads while this smug turian runs amok with his geth lackies?"

"That's politics, Chief."

"I hate politics."

_You and me both. _Shepard sighed.

* * *

><p><p>

The mess was empty by the time she had divested herself of her formal wear. Captain Anderson had given the rest of the crew leave while Shepard and her team dealt with the Council. Now it looked like that leave would be extended, as they were no closer to exposing Saren than they had been when they left Eden Prime. Suspecting that the following day would be just as tedious as this one had been, she'd given Williams and Alenko their own leave for the rest of the evening.

Beginning to regret not going out herself, Shepard stabbed at her meal in a disgruntled fashion as she tried not to relive the hearing. There was one thing on which both she and Saren could agree: that meeting had had no purpose. No purpose except to alert the spectre that they were on to him. She hadn't even met him in person yet and already she hated his stupid smug face. While she sat here brooding he was probably already half-way across the galaxy. She found herself unconsciously grinding her fork into the poor defenseless remains of her dinner. Glancing down at the carnage she snorted and stood up, collecting the plate and disposing of the destroyed remnants. She may as well try to get some sleep.

All of the sleeper pods were empty, as most of the crew would take up lodging either in the barracks on station or in any of the numerous hotels and motels the Citadel's tourist department proudly boasted, depending on the state of the individual's finances. Shepard didn't mind the pods, they reminded her of Earth in a perversely comforting way. And they were quiet in a way that military barracks only achieved when completely devoid of life, a circumstance that rarely occurred, especially on the Citadel. There were always the hotels, but she found it hard to justify the expense when most of her time would be spent elsewhere. It didn't help that the last hotel she'd stayed in had been reduced to smoking rubble by a devastating aerial raid.

At least this time her lodging had guns of its own.

* * *

><p><p>

_- the hell was that?_

Upon returning after a quick meal, Alenko had expected to find the _Normandy's _crew quarters vacant. That one of the pods was occupied was mildly surprising, but not exceptionally so. Not everyone – himself included – cared to shell out credits when a free place to crash was so readily available, and what little privacy the small chambers yielded seemed extravagant indeed compared to the complete lack thereof in the barracks. What he had not expected was the familiar tug of a mass-effect field and the blue flare that arced briefly along the capsule's surface, leaving behind spotty after-images in its wake.

Taking a step towards the racks, his ears were greeted with a meaty _thunk_, proceeded by a muffled "_Shit_." Baffled, he watched as the lid sprung open, spewing out a tangle of bare limbs and bedding that after some length resolved itself into his executive officer. She swayed uncertainly for a moment as she regained her balance, hand clapped firmly to her forehead. An astonishing string of profanity followed before Shepard noticed she had an audience.

Dropping her hand to her side, she acknowledged him with a nod. "Late night Lieutenant?"

"Uh, yes ma'am." He forced his eyes away from the impressive expanse of bare leg on display. If she noticed his divided attention - or felt at all uncomfortable chatting with him in what amounted to little more than a camisole and briefs - she gave no indication as she began rooting through the small locker adjacent to her pod. _Isn't she cold? _At length she produced a bound book as long as her arm and an honest-to-god _wooden_ pencil, and moved briskly past him to the hall's lone table. She dropped unceremoniously into a seat, leafing hurriedly through the pages.

He caught the briefest of glimpses of its contents over her shoulder before she finally stopped at a blank page about halfway through the tome. It was a sketchbook. _Well of course. The pencil should have been the first clue. _Her goal reached, she snatched up the utensil and began sweeping it across the page in long, broad strokes. Fascinated, he rounded the other side of the table to watch. When she made no move to stop him, he sat down across from her, attention glued to the pad. Every now and then she would pause to close her eyes, then they would fly open and she would continue. It was hard to make sense of the sketch upside-down, but as she worked he began to feel a nagging sensation that he had seen that image somewhere before. It looked kind of like a squid.

No, it looked like –

"- that _thing_," he burst out.

She nodded mutely as she turned to a fresh page and began the process over again. This time what emerged looked to be people fleeing, silhouetted against some kind of flare of light. Their features were indistinguishable, but the long, lanky forms bore only a passing resemblance to human proportion.

"Wha- "

"Please hold all questions until after the presentation," she mumbled, eyes never leaving her work. He closed his mouth with a snap and settled back to watch.

By the third page her frenetic pace began to slow. She began sketching another humanoid, but she had only vaguely roughed out the form before the pencil skittered to a stop. It hovered for a second above the paper before falling from her fingers. She pressed both hands to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut and bowing her head. After a moment she dropped her hands with a soft, "Fuck."

"... Commander?" he ventured when she didn't elaborate any further.

She opened her eyes and sighed. "I lost it."

"Lost what?" An increasingly familiar state of bafflement was returning.

"The image. The message." She made a wobbly, "I don't know" gesture with both hands on either side of her head. "The fuckin' stuff-with-the-stuff in my head."

"Commander, are you alright?"

She learned back and ran booth hands through her hair, corralling back errant strands that sleep had set free. "I'm fine Lieutenant. I just didn't get a chance to scribble down what I could remember of the vision last time. Good thing I just caught the matinee."

"Vis—this is what you saw from the Beacon? From your dream?" He looked down at the half-finished sketch incredulously.

She nodded, thumbing back to the first page. "Part of it anyway. I caught flashes of it when I was asleep. It seems to be lurking around in my subconscious. We saw something like this back on Eden Prime." She tapped the bizarre squid-like machine with a finger. "It isn't the same one, though. There are more. A lot more. I think." Her hand returned to her forehead and her eyes drifted shut once more. "It's all pretty garbled."

"Commander, I -" He opened his mouth, the apology rising automatically.

"Shut it, Alenko." She jabbed the pencil in his direction without opening her eyes. "I know you're sorry, but it's not your fault. That thing could have gone off on anyone. If it hadn't been us it could have been the extraction team, or the research scientists. This way we can actually put it to good use. Besides," she tapped her head with the eraser end, "no lasting damage."

He wasn't so sure about that. Stuff-with-the-stuff? Who talked like that?

"So stop it," she said. "Save the pity party for your own time."

"You _did_ give me leave for the evening, Ma'am."

"Well, then I revoke it. That's what you get for being a smart-ass. Now can it and help me make sense of this crap."

He chuckled and pulled the pad closer for a better look at the bizarre image. Even though he had seen it hovering in the sky with his own eyes, it was still hard to imagine that the strange machine with its segmented appendages could ever be space-worthy. It sure didn't look like a ship designed to enter any kind of atmosphere he had ever heard of. Could it even land? Could those crazy arms support its weight? Who would design such an improbable vessel?

Of course it would be pointless to bring these sketches to the Council. They had already presented a copy of the transmission from Eden Prime, and while the quality was nowhere near as clear as the sketch, it did provide a good snapshot of the thing. That this image came directly out of Shepard's head wouldn't hold water, as all three of them had seen the original. The Council would just assume that she was remembering it, not that it was a product of some alien vision.

He had to admit that the idea of an artifact storing a psychic message for tens of thousands of years and then implanting it directly into the recipient's brain sounded far-fetched even to him, and he had been there. Not that he didn't believe her, of course. The commander was many things, but prone to flights of fancy was not one of them. It's just that the whole idea was better suited for the realms of fiction. They would have a hard time convincing anyone of it's validity without solid proof. If only the Beacon hadn't exploded...

He was thinking himself in circles again.

"Well? Anything to share with the group?"

Startled, he glanced up to find Shepard watching him, clearly amused by his focused study. How he could have forgotten she was there when she was dressed – or rather, _not_ dressed – like that was a bit bewildering, but now that he had remembered he had to remind himself to keep his gaze firmly on her face and not on the rather low neckline of her tank top.

"Uh," he said, as it occurred to him that he was expected to speak now, "no. Not really." _Nothing that bears repeating. _"Though I guess I was wondering here you learned to draw like this."

She didn't answer immediately, her attention on the pencil in her hand as she twirled it between her fingers. "There wasn't a whole lot to do at the shelter where I grew up," she said finally. "Besides watching old movies. They did have a couple ancient consoles, nothing too fancy. Not much on them but card games, but one of them had this two-dee drawing program I liked." She put the implement down, her expression rueful. "When I joined the Alliance I could afford to switch to good, old-fashioned dead trees."

"So that's why you enlisted? For the paper?" Tech, coffee and paper. _The Alliance's finest, ladies and gentlemen._

She smirked, giving him the distinct impression she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Don't forget the graphite."

_Finest smart-asses, that is._

* * *

><p><p>

Shepard nudged the nearest inert form with her toe. "That's it. While on the Citadel, full body armor. At all times, no exceptions. If we can managed to not get shot at next visit I'll reconsider adjusting that policy for purposes of shore leave."

The tell-tale click of a safety being released had alerted her to the danger a split second before the two mooks had opened fire. There wasn't much one could do with a split second. Shout a simple order. Take a single step. Arm a gun of your own. Prep a quick mnemonic. Or if you were very quick, very lucky, or very good, maybe some combination of those actions. Shepard would not have survived this long if she had not been all three of these things.

The glow faded from her fingertips as she returned her sidearm to its holster under her jacket. Behind her from where they had flung themselves to cover at her at her urgent "_Move_," the others did the same. She grimaced. Even she had to admit she was relying a bit too heavily on the luck part as of late. Wandering through unfamiliar territory with your squishy insides unprotected was pushing it.

Fortunately the skirmish had been short-lived, at least as far as the woefully unprepared thugs were concerned. Stooping to search the second turian, Alenko came up with a data pad. "Saren's men. Doesn't mention him by name, of course, but all the signs are there." He handed it to her.

She took in the message at a glance. It contained what one would expect; a detailed description of all three of them, a general idea of where they'd be, a pitifully inadequate sum for their disposal, and a signature vague enough to be almost anyone, though she was having a hard time coming up with some other asshole with sufficient funding that she'd pissed off recently.

She tossed the pad on the floor between the two. "Useless for our purposes, C-Sec may want it. I wouldn't be surprised if he intended for us to find it."

The lieutenant nodded. "That would be my guess. These bozos are likely just the chaff preceding the real threat."

"Gee El Tee, could you make that sound anymore ominous?" Williams asked.

He shrugged. "Well, it probably means we're on the right track."

* * *

><p><p>

"A million light-years from where humanity began, and we walk into a bar filled with men drooling over half-naked women shaking their asses on a stage." Williams shook her head. "I can't decide if that's funny or sad." _Ok, it's a little __funny. _

"What, you don't think they're here for the food?" Alenko asked innocently.

"Hey, Lieutenant? Put your tongue back in your mouth before you trip on it."

"Alright, you two, keep an eye out for our man. He might be hard to spot, I get the feeling this is probably his natural habitat." Shepard eyed the patrons of the sleazy bar, her distaste evident.

"I just hope this guy has some answers. If my sisters get wind that I came all the way to the Citadel just to go to some alien strip club I will never hear the end of it."

"Answers" maybe have been too strong a word, but the man did have some information, even if it was of dubious integrity. And it wasn't exactly what they were looking for, though it did admittedly shed some light on a couple things, whether or not they needed illumination. It rankled her that this low-life of all people had dirt on the captain. Williams was a bit disappointed when Shepard didn't have to make good on her promise to feed the man his own teeth, but she supposed dinner and a show was a bit much to hope for. There was a moment there when she'd been sure Alenko was going to beat the commander to the punch – hopefully literally – but the threat of bodily harm from an Alliance hero had been enough to curb even an idiot like Harkin's desire to call Shepard "Princess" again.

The news that the captain had once been on the short list to be made spectre cast his desire to see Shepard fill that role in a clearer light. It was only natural that he would want to see her succeed where he had failed. She was his protege after all. However, all this insight still didn't get them any closer to finding evidence against Saren.

"And how exactly is all this related to where I might find Vakarian?" Shepard asked.

"It doesn't," Harkin sneered, "except you both seem to be interested in the same guy. Everything leads back to Saren. And that captain of yours. Garrus was sniffing around Dr. Michel's office. She runs the med clinic on the other side of the wards. You might find him there."

"Why didn't Captain Anderson tell us he was almost made a spectre?" Williams asked as they made their way to the clinic, leaving the former C-Sec officer ranting into his drink. "That part is kind of relevant here."

"Maybe it's not true," Alenko said. "Harkin's an ass. He's just messing with your head."

Williams huffed. "You're probably right. Still, I'd like to hear what the Captain has to say about all this."

The clinic was empty when they reached it, save for its proprietor. Dr. Michel had not seen the turian recently, but if she did she would let him know they were looking for him. Deciding she'd had just about enough of prowling around the Citadel for one day, Shepard lead her team towards the elevators across the foyer. Along the way they were confronted by a sight they had somehow managed to miss on the first pass through. Williams stopped in her tracks.

_Holy_ –

* * *

><p><p>

– _shit_.

She could only stare at the vista, mouth ever-so-slightly agape. Shepard knew she looked like a tourist, but she couldn't help it. The view from the _Normandy_ had been impressive, but it was nothing compared to this. It was incredible. Before her the arms of the Citadel stretched out into the abyss, each a mirror-image of the other four. From this range she could see the buildings with new clarity, each hundreds of meters high. Cars zipped and swerved around them like so many insects, lights winking off their metal carapaces. In the distance they formed long luminous chains wrapping around the towers like glowing ribbons. Above her the other arms loomed, trails of lights carving intricate glyphs into their darkened surfaces. It was beautiful.

Clearly she was not the only one who thought so. Several minutes passed before any of them could find their voice again. When he did, Alenko summed up what they were all thinking fairly succinctly.

"Big place."

Williams pried her eyes away from the view long enough to favor him with a smirk. "That your... _professional_ opinion, sir?"

"He's right," Shepard said, unable to keep the wonder from her tone. "This isn't a station; it's a city."

Alenko leaned over the railing out over the walkway below. "There must be millions of people here. It can't be possible to track everyone coming and going."

"This makes Jump Zero look like a Porta-John. And it's the largest deep space station we have." Balancing her elbows on the low wall, the chief rested her chin in her hands.

"Jump Zero was big. But this is a whole other scale. Look at the ward arms. How do they keep all that mass from flying apart?"

Shepard laughed to herself. Trust Alenko to go for the technical questions. "The Council represents more races than I thought. No wonder they're careful with newcomers."

"They probably just want to keep everything running," he agreed. "It has to be hard keeping all these cultures working together."

"Or maybe they just don't like humans," Williams muttered.

"What's not to like?" Shepard grinned. "We're got oceans, beautiful women. This emotion called love. According to the old vids, we have everything they want."

They all shared a laugh. "When you put it that way," Alenko chuckled, "there's no reason they wouldn't like you."

She blinked. _Wait, what?_

He recovered himself quickly. "I mean, us. Humans. Ma'am."

_That was... huh._ Her tongue lodged itself in her mouth as she fumbled for a reply, but Williams came to her rescue. "You don't take much shore leave, do you El Tee?" she needled lightly.

Shepard coughed. "Alright, laugh it up, Chief. I'm flattered, Alenko, but we're still on the clock here."

His gaze was everywhere but on her, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Um, aye, aye, ma'am."

The chief rolled her eyes. "I'll walk drag, ma'am."


	5. No Good Deed

_Located in the heart of the bustling market center in the Citadel Wards, the completely remodeled Chora's Den is celebrating its Grand Reopening under new management. The only club in the wards open 20 hours 10 days a week, the Den caters to gentlemen of exotic taste and features a full intra-species menu as well as staff. Ideal for both after dinner entertainment and late night revelry._

- Excerpt from Lonely Galaxy's _Citadel on a Bootlace, _2183

* * *

><p>The abrupt arrival of the three marines interrupted what must have been an admittedly bizarre scene. Vakarian was hunched down low, the planter that bisected the small clinic obscuring him - he sincerely hoped - from the view of the room's other occupants. Not that the intruders had been paying much attention to anything other than Dr. Michel when he had crept in moments before. The five men clustered menacingly around the wide-eyed woman, but they jumped at the sudden invasion of sound from the corridor into the comparatively quiet office.<p>

Vakarian glanced toward the noise, he and Shepard making eye contact briefly as she strode into the room, but he quickly refocused on the mercenaries as they scurried into motion.

Grabbing the doctor, the nearest brute swung her around. He held her between himself and the advancing marines and brandished a well-used pistol. "Who are you?"

Ignoring the question, the commander readied her own weapon. "Let her go," she demanded. Behind her the other two humans took up defensive positions, covering the only exit.

Their focus now occupied with Shepard, Garrus took the opportunity to duck out of his hiding place, his pistol barking a quick rapport. The foremost man crumpled to the floor as the doctor shrieked. She dove away from her harassers. Denied their human shield, the group was forced to take what limited cover the examination room offered, but in the end they were sorely out-matched. Expelling the empty cartridge from his sidearm, the turian gave the marines an assessing look. "Perfect timing, Shepard. Gave me a clear shot at that bastard."

"That was hell of a shot," she remarked, nodding to fallen gunman.

He flared his cheek plates. "Sometimes you get lucky." He turned to help pull the fallen doctor from the floor. "Dr. Michel, are you hurt?"

The woman shook her head, prying her eyes from the inert forms of her would-be assailants. "No, I'm ok. Thanks to you. All of you."

"What did they want?" asked Shepard. "Why were they threatening you?"

"They work for Fist. They wanted to keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian."

The human commander raised her eyebrows in a gesture Vakarian had come to recognize as surprise. Either that or amusement. Humans were hard to read. "What quarian?"

"A few day ago a quarian came by my office," Michel explained. "She'd been shot, but she wouldn't tell me by who. I could tell she was scared, probably on the run. She asked me about the Shadow Broker. She wanted to trade information in exchange for a safe place to hide."

"So where is she now?"

"I put her in contact with Fist."

"'Fist?'" One of Shepard's brows lowered back down, but the other stayed firmly aloft. The asymmetry of the expression was fascinating, Vakarian hadn't realized human eyebrows could operate autonomously. "That's a person?"

Michel's face took on a pinched look. "That's a matter of opinion. He's an agent for the Shadow Broker."

He frowned. "Not any more. Now he works for Saren and the Shadow Broker isn't too happy about it."

Ok, that was definitely an expression of surprise. Doctor Michel's eyebrows threatened to rocket right off her forehead. "Fist betrayed the Shadow broker? That's stupid, even for him. Saren must have made him quite the offer."

"That quarian must have something he wants," Garrus reasoned. "Something worth crossing the Shadow Broker to get." He cast a meaningful look at Shepard and she nodded.

"She must have something that proves he's a traitor. Did the quarian mention anything about Saren? Or the geth?"

"She did. The information she was going to trade. She said it had something to do with the geth."

Garrus felt a thrill of excitement. "She must be able to link him to the geth. There's no way the Council can ignore this!"

There was a distinctly predatory note in the smile that spread across the human commander's face. If he hadn't known better, he might have wondered if humans were in fact descended from those large jungle cats their cinema was so fond of showcasing. "I think it's time we paid this Fist a visit."

This was his chance. Maybe if he could convince the commander to let him help bring Arterius in he could prove to Executor Pallin that there was more than one way to deal with perpetrators.

"This is your show, Shepard," he conceded. "But I want to take Saren down as much as you do. I'm coming with you."

Shepard gave him a look he couldn't readily identify. She appeared as though she had just taken a bite of the daily special from a salarian food cart and was retroactively trying to identify its contents. "You're a turian. Why would you want to bring down one of your own?"

Ah, that was it. She was expecting some sort of turian-centric solidarity. That kind of biased treatment may be common in other species, but that didn't fly with him. How could he convince her that that was precisely the reason he need to find him? He chose his words with care. "I couldn't find the proof I needed in my investigation, but I knew what was really going on. Saren's a traitor to the Council, and a disgrace to my people. I need to bring him down _because _he's a turian. "

That seemed to satisfy the commander. "Alright. We'd better get to Fist before word of his employee's untimely demise prompts him to pack up and leave."

"About that. You know, we aren't the only ones going after Fist. The Shadow Broker hired a krogan bounty hunter named Wrex to take him out."

"Yeah," the other female piped up, "we saw him in the bar."

Shepard looked thoughtful. "A krogan might come in handy."

"Last I heard he was at the C-Sec Academy."

She and the last marine shared a look. "I'm guessing he wasn't there for a casual tour."

"Hardly. Fist accused him of making threats. We brought Wrex in for a little talk. If you hurry, you can catch him before he leaves."

The commander gave a nod. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><em>That quarian is dead if we don't go now.<em>

Alenko's words rang in her ears as she crouched behind the overturned table. Spilled drinks pooled under her knees and time ticked mercilessly away as she weathered – or rather her haphazard cover weathered in her place - the steady assault from the remainder of Fist's mercenaries. A few meters away her lieutenant was similarly pinned, sharing the small cover allotted by the bar with the massive bulk of an angry krogan.

Shepard couldn't help but noticed that the mercs seemed to have their order of operations backwards. Generally one tried to keep the assaulting force from invading the stronghold, not pin them down inside when they were trying to leave.

On the way in the hired help had offered little in the way of a fight. They no doubt saw things differently, as two heavily armed soldiers and a krogan laid waste to their club with what resembled – at least in the case of the krogan – abandon one might go so far as to describe as "reckless". Table and booths, previously re-purposed as cover, were sent careening through the air, only to be reduced to their component parts as they made sudden contact with the concrete walls.

Unprepared for combat of this nature, Fist's defenses were sloppy and unorganized. His troops fell back towards the store room, corralling themselves in the tight corrector behind heavy crates. Easy prey for three biotics.

The parley with the man himself had taken half that time, but in the interim the freelancers seemed to have marshaled their collective vinegar, apparently unaware that there was no one left to sign their paychecks.

The show of force would have caught them off-guard if not for the red pinpricks on her HUD, speckling the area like ants. Surprisingly well armed ants. The coordinated, unending volley of fire would have been impressive if it wasn't so irritating. It effectively kept them pinned down and unable to go on offensive. Shepard grit her teeth. They did not have time for this shit.

It seemed Wrex was in agreement, as he chose that moment to leap to his feet and _charge _the cluster of merchs. They had plenty of time to scatter out of the way, but in doing so their attention wavered from the commander. Not one to waste a good distraction, she ducked around her cover, preceding her own advancement with the no longer flat table, sending it hurtling towards the nearest foe with a flick of her wrist. It caught him unawares, the edge of the table taking his squarely in the gut and causing him to fly back. The next she grabbed with a field, sending him to join his compatriot in a heap.

By now Wrex's biotic barrier had flickered out, leaving the krogan with just his shield for protection as he waded through the remaining mooks, imparting a punch here and a shotgun blast there. Just as she was sure the shields would give out the last of them fell at his feet.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were _trying _to get yourself shot full of holes," she called at the krogan's back as he disappeared through the entrance. She and the lieutenant sprinted after him as he tore through the wards.

Already the benefits of associating with a krogan were becoming apparent to the commander. Normally when one barreled through a crowded marketplace there were obstacles such as people or stalls in the way, however when following in the wake of a charging krogan, obstacles were quickly removed from the path, whether by choice or by force.

Fortunately for all concerned, Wrex seemed to know where he was going as he ducked into a dark passageway off the market square. She signaled for them to slow their advance, as voices from around the bend reached them. A peek around the corner revealed a tableau that seemed the epitome of shady back-alley dealings. The quarian was there, unharmed for the moment. She seemed to be having an argument with the turian looming over her, but only their tone reached her ears. Shepard inched forward, straining to hear, for some clue of which direction the wind was blowing.

"- way. The deal's off."

The quarian backed away from the advancing turian as one of two armored salarian produced a pistol. Her hand flicked in their direction, hurling a small black disk at the clustered pair as she dove for a nearby crate. The two looked at the disk at their feet in wonder before lightning arced out of the device, surrounding them and sending them staggering backwards. The protective glow of their shields flickered out.

Deciding that was as good a cue as anyway, Shepard leaned around the corner and drilled the nearest salarian with a quick burst of fire. Beside him his companion was enveloped by a wave of biotic energy, slamming him into the wall meters behind. Not to be outdone - and in true krogan fashion - Wrex charged the remaining mercenary, catching the turian in the jaw with the back of his shotgun. With a sickening crunch the turian was on the ground, coughing up a substantial amount of blue fluid.

The krogan loomed over him. "You tell Saren he's made a powerful enemy," he declared, bring the butt of his gun down again.

_Three firefights in one day. S_he shook her head as she crossed the alley over to where the quarian had landed. _Or was it four? Does Chora's Den count as two? Either way, I'm not entirely sure I like this precedent._

"Fist set me up! I knew I could trust him," the quarian spat angrily as the commander approached her position.

"Are you hurt?" Shepard asked, offering a hand to help her stand.

She took the offered arm, pulling herself to her feet. "I know how to look after myself," she said somewhat defensively.

Shepard raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the three prone forms cluttering up the tight passageway.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," the quarian amended hastily, "your timing is impeccable. But, who are you?"

"Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance. I'm looking for evidence against a Spectre named Saren Arterius. Proof that he's a traitor."

"Then I have a chance to repay you for saving my life. But not here. We need to go somewhere safe."

* * *

><p>"You're not making my life easy, Shepard," Udina began before the door had fully opened. He had his arms crossed disapprovingly in front of him in a posture Shepard was beginning to realize was his default stance. "Firefights in the wards? An all-out assault on Chora's Den? Do you know how many—" he cut himself off as he seemed to take note of the strangers for the first time. "Who's this? A quarian? What are you up to, Shepard?"<p>

"Making your day, Ambassador. She has information linking Saren to the geth."

"Really? Perhaps you had better start at the beginning, Miss...?"

"My name is Tali," she supplied. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

Udina eyed her thoughtfuly. "We don't see many quarians here. Why did you leave the flotilla?"

"I was on my Pilgrimage, my rite of passage into adulthood."

"Tell us what you found," Shepard prompted.

"During my travels I began hearing reports of geth. Since they drove my people into exile, the geth have never ventured beyond the Veil. I was curious. I tracked a patrol of geth to an uncharted world. I waited for one to become separated from its unit. Then I disabled it and removed its memory core."

"I thought the geth fried their memory cores when they died," Captain Anderson commented, rising from his chair. "Some kind of defense mechanism. How did you manage to preserve the memory core?"

Though the enclosed enviro-suit with its smoked mask prevented Shepard from reading her facial expressions, she was pretty sure she could detect a mild sense of self-satisfaction in the quarian's posture. "My people created the geth. If you're quick, careful, and lucky, small caches of data can sometimes be saved. Most of the core was wiped clean, but I salvaged something from its audio banks." She held out her omni-tool and activated it.

A familiar voice filled the room, the unmistakable flanging tone of the turian's voice voice sounding smug and arrogant to Shepard's admittedly biased ears. "_Eden Prime was a major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit -"_

"That's Saren's voice," Anderson confirmed. "This proves he was involved in the attack."

Shepard frowned. "It sounds like he managed to activate the beacon as well. That must've been before he tried to blow the spaceport into the upper stratosphere. What was that about a Conduit?"

"It must have something to do with the beacon," said Anderson. "Maybe it's some kind of Prothean technology... like a weapon."

"Wait," Tali broke in. "There's more. Saren wasn't working alone."

"_- major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit -"_

"_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."_

Udina pursed his lips."I don't recognize that other voice. The one talking about Reapers."

"I feel like I've heard that name before," Shepard muttered.

Tali activated another command on her 'tool. "According to the memory core, the Reapers were a hyper-advanced machine race that existed 50,000 years ago. The Reapers hunted the Protheans to total extinction, and then they vanished. At least, that's what the geth believe."

Udina snorted. "Sounds a little far-fetched."

"No, the vision on Eden Prime – I understand it now." Everyone turned to look at the commander. "I saw the Protheans being wiped out by the Reapers." An uncomfortable silence followed her proclamation.

After a moment Tali continued. "The geth revere the Reapers as gods, the pinnacle of non-organic life. And they believe Saren knows how to bring them back."

Udina sighed. "The Council is just going to love this!"

"The Reapers are a threat to every species in Citadel space," Shepard insisted. "We have to tell them.

The captain had a more practical point. "No matter what they think about the rest of this, those audio files prove Saren is a traitor."

Udina nodded. "The captain's right. We need to present this to the Council right away."

"What about her? The quarian?" Wrex asked, speaking for the first time. The ambassador jumped, clearly having forgotten the krogan was there, though Shepard had a hard time imagining how.

"My name is Tali!" she said crossly. "You saw me in the alley, Commander. You know what I can do. Let me come with you."

_Sure,why not. I already have krogan and a turian. Know any hanar we can invite? _"'I'll take all the help I can get."

Tali somehow managed to look relieved. "Thanks. You won't regret this."

Udina headed for the door. "Anderson and I will go ahead to get things ready with the Council. Take a few minutes to collect yourself, then meet us in the Tower."

* * *

><p>"You wanted proof," Udinia proclaimed triumphantly, "Here it is."<p>

Councilor Sparatus looked as though he had swallowed something sour. "This evidence is irrefutable, Ambassador," the turian agreed. "Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status and all efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes."

"I recognize the other voice, the one speaking with Saren," added the asari councilor, her voice troubled. "Matriarch Benezia."

"Who's she?" Shepard asked.

"Matriarchs are powerful asari who have entered the final stage of their lives. Revered for their wisdom and experience, they serve as guides and mentors to my people. Matriarch Benezia is a powerful biotic, and she had many followers. She will make a formidable ally for Saren."

"I'm more interested in the Reapers," put in the salarian councilor. "What do you know about them?"

"Only what was extracted from the geth's memory core,"admitted Anderson. "The Reapers were an ancient race of machines that wiped out the Protheans. Then they vanished."

"The geth believe the Reapers are gods," said Shepard. "And Saren is the prophet for their return."

Anderson nodded. "We think the Conduit is the key to bringing them back. Saren's searching for it. That's why he attacked Eden Prime."

The salarian frowned. "Do we even know what this Conduit is?"

Shepard shrugged. "Does it matter? Saren thinks it can bring back the Reapers. That's bad enough."

Sparatus made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a human snort. "Listen to what you're saying! Saren wants to bring back the machines that wiped out all life in the galaxy? Impossible. It has to be. Where did the Reapers go? Why did they vanish? How come we've found no trace of their existence? If they were real, we'd have found something!"

"We did find something," she insisted. "We found the beacon."

"You'll have to pardon me if I am reluctant to take one person's hallucination as evidence of an ancient threat."

"I tried to warn you about Saren, and you refused to face the truth. Don't make the same mistake again."

"This is different," the asari councilor cut in. "You proved Saren betrayed the Council. We all agree he's using the geth to search for the Conduit, but we don't really know why."

"The Reapers are obviously just a myth, Commander. A convenient lie to cover Saren's true purpose. A legend he is using to bend the geth to his will." Councilor Valern crossed his arms.

"Fifty thousand years ago, the Reapers wiped out all galactic civilization," Shepard insisted. She didn't know exactly from where her certainty was coming but she was certain none the less. "If Saren finds the Conduit, it will happen again!"

"Saren is a rogue agent on the run for his life," the turian councilor scoffed. "He no longer has the rights or resources of a Spectre. The Council has stripped him of his position."

"That is not good enough!" Udina jabbed an angry finger at Sparatus. "You know he's hiding somewhere in the Traverse. Send your fleet in!"

"A fleet cannot track down one man," Valern stated flatly.

"A Citadel fleet could secure the entire region," Udina declared. "Keep the geth from attacking any more of our colonies."

"Or it could trigger a war with the Terminus Systems!" the turian councilor countered. "We won't be dragged into a galactic confrontation over a few dozen human colonies."

"Then send me," Shepard said.

"No! It's too soon. Humanity is not ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."

_I probably shouldn't point out that I don't actually need to be a Spectre to go into the Terminus Systems. _"You wouldn't have to send a fleet into the Traverse, and the Ambassador gets his human Spectre," she pointed out reasonably. "Everyone's happy."

The councilors shared a look, Tevos and Valern nodding but Councilor Sparatus just shook his head. They each keyed in a command into their personal consoles, then seemed to reach a decision.

"Commander Shepard," said Councilor Tevos, "step forward. It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel."

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen," intoned Councilor Valern with an air of ritualized formality. "Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file."

"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will."

"Spectres bear a great burden," Councilor Sparatus joined in. "They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."

"You are the first human Spectre, Commander," Tevos concluded. "This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species."

Shepard nodded, eager to get on with it. "What's my first mission?"

"We're sending you into the Traverse after Saren," answered the salarian. "He's a fugitive from justice, so you are authorized to use any means necessary to apprehend or eliminate him."

She nodded again. "I'll find him."

"This meeting of the Council is adjourned," declared the asari.

Captain Anderson beamed. "Congratulations, Commander."

"We've got a lot of work to do, Shepard," added Udina. "You're going to need a ship, a crew, supplies... Anderson, come with me. I'll need your help to set all this up."

Tali watched the two men leave. "I thought the Ambassador would be a little more grateful. He didn't even thank you."

"He's got a lot on his mind," said Shepard mildly. "Come on."

* * *

><p>The ambassador and Captain were waiting for them in the docking port by the time they had collected Williams and Vakarian from C-Sec.<p>

"I've got big news for you, Shepard," proclaimed the Ambassador as the group approached. "Captain Anderson is stepping down as commanding officer of the _Normandy_. The ship is yours now."

– _What._

Her astonishment must have been plain on her face, as the captain quickly cut in. "She's quick and quiet and you know the crew. Perfect ship for a Spectre. Treat her well, Commander."

Shepard stopped short. "Sir, you can't be serious..." she trailed off as Anderson nodded solemnly. "This isn't right! The _Normandy _belongs to _you_. "

"You need your own ship. A Spectre can't answer to anyone but the Council. And it's time for me to step down."

"What's going on? Come clean with me, Captain, you owe me that much."

Anderson sighed. "I was in your shoes twenty years ago, Shepard. They were considering me for the Spectres."

_So it was true. _"What happened?"

Anderson looked away, turning to gaze at the ship. "I failed," he said, his voice quiet. "I couldn't make the cut. It's not something I'm proud of. Perhaps later I'll tell you the whole story. For now, all you need to know is I was sent on a mission with Saren, and he made sure the Council rejected me. I had my shot. It came and went. Now you have a chance to make up for my mistakes."

_No way, I can't do this to him._

"I won't-" He turned back to her, any sign of wistfulness or regret wiped clean from his craggy face and her resolve wilted under his stern look. _Damnit. God damnit. _"– let you down, sir."

Anderson gave her a curt nod. "Saren's gone. Don't even try to find him. But we know what he's after: the Conduit. He's got his geth scouring the Traverse looking for clues."

"We had reports of geth in the Feros system shortly before our colony there dropped out of contact," put in Udina. " And there have been sightings around Noveria."

"Find out what Saren was after on Feros and Noveria. Maybe you can figure out where the Conduit is before he does."

"The Reapers are the real threat," Shepard said.

Udina frowned. "I'm with the Council on this one, Shepard. I'm not convinced they even exist."

"But if they do exist, the Conduit's the key to bringing them back," pointed out Anderson. "Stop Saren from getting the Conduit and we stop the Reapers from returning."

Shepard nodded. "Anything else?"

Garrus stepped forward to join the group. "Williams and I came up with a lead. You said Matriarch Benezia was one of the voices on that recording? Turns out she has a daughter, a scientist who specializes in the Protheans. Even if she's not involved, she might know something useful. Her name's Liara. Dr. Liara T'Soni. We have reports she was exploring an archeological dig on one of the uncharted worlds in the Artemis Tau cluster. "

"We have to try Feros, those colonists might still be alive."

"It's your decision, Commander," said Anderson. "You're a Spectre now. You don't answer to us. "

"But your actions still reflect on humanity as a whole," the ambassador remonstrated. "You make another mess like that one in Chora's Den and I get stuck cleaning it up."

She decided she had had about as much of Udina as she could take. "I'll take care of Saren," she snapped. "You take care of the political fallout."

The ambassador gave her an exasperated look. "Not exactly the answer I was looking for, Shepard. Remember, you were a human long before you were a Spectre."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Well, it sure has been an embarrassingly long time since I last posted a chapter. I'm trying to get back on track, but life keeps interfering. And like a seemingly large number of my fanfic compatriots, I've lost a lot of momentum in the wake of ME3. Nevertheless, I intend to finish what I have started, however long that may take. Hopefully not another eleven months between chapters.<em>


	6. Breaking Eggs

… _therefore it is the finding of this panel that despite of the relative success of the _Normandy Initiative_, it is ultimately impractical to employ independent extraterrestrial contractors aboard an Alliance military vessel. The political fallout alone surrounding the death of the turian spectre Nilus is evidence enough that despite professed autonomy of the Citadel Council's agents, their respective homeworlds will not hesitate to involve themselves in the investigation of said agents' activities. It is expected that their interest in non-spectre civilians will be even more intensive. This issue will available for reevaluation after the completion of the Normandy's current objectives. In the interim…._

- Excerpt from internal Alliance memo re: cost/benefit analysis of resident alien representatives

* * *

><p>She stepped into the airlock of her new command every nerve in her body screaming that this was wrong. The lock cycled closed with a sigh on the tableau of ambassador and captain as the soft lights of the decon cycle began their ponderous sweep of the chamber. This was all wrong. She needed to go after Saren, but not like this.<p>

Was this how the Alliance rewarded its finest? What she had to look forward to? Forced retirement and a swift boot out the door?

This was _bullshit_.

Her gloves shielded the flesh of her palms as her nails dug into the protective weave. She forced her fingers to unclench and let a slow breath hiss through gritted teeth.

"Commander," Alenko began, "are you-" He was cut off as the cycle pinged in conclusion and the interior doors opened. She stalked out of the chamber, not waiting for him to continue. She heard him pause in the doorway, then move quietly off down the hall.

"I heard what happened to Anderson," Moreau said as she approached. "Survives a hundred battles, only to be taken down by backroom politics. Just watch your back Commander. Things go south on this mission, you're next on the chopping block."

"The Captain should be the one in charge, this is just as much his fight as anyone's. It's like I'm stealing his ship."

"Uh, no offense Commander, but you're giving yourself way too much credit if you think you could have stopped this." He looked up from his displays, face orange with their reflected light. "Hey, no one's blaming you. Everyone on this ship is behind you, Commander. One hundred percent."

At his uncharacteristically earnest pep-talk she felt her frustration ease, if only a little bit. She let her grimace soften into something closer to neutral.

"Comm's open. If you've got anything you want to say to your new crew, now's the time."

She leaned over the pilot to speak into the audio pickup. "This is Commander Shepard." She paused, unsure of how to continue. What would she want to hear from the woman commandeering her ship, replacing her commanding officer in the middle of an op? _Fuck it, I'm not about to start lying to them now._

"By now you all will have heard what has happened. I'm assuming command of the _Normandy_ in Captain Anderson's stead. This is not the way any of us would have chosen for this to go, but the universe didn't ask us and its complaint department is backed up to shit. And in the meantime we have a job to do.

"This Arterius asshole attacked one of our colonies and we are going to make damn such he pays for it. He's got a head start, but he won't keep it for long; this is the best ship and the best crew in the Alliance. But I won't lie to you, this isn't going to be easy. When we go into the Traverse, Saren and his army will be waiting for us. But we still have a few tricks up our sleeves." She took a breath and leaned closer to the mic for emphasis. "We need to stop him before he finds the Conduit. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every other species in Citadel Space. I promise you all... _we will get that smug bastard._ "

She pulled back from the comm and ran a gloved hand through her hair, the armored plating yanking ruthlessly at the strands. Joker favored her with a grin. "Well said, Commander. Captain would be proud."

Her armored boots falling heavy on the metal decking as she turned away. "The captain gave up everything so I could have this chance. We can't fail."

Moreau's voice echoed down the passageway after her.

"Yes, ma'am!"

By the time she'd changed out of her hardsuit they had left the Widow behind on route to the first of three relays needed to make the jump to Feros, her mood not so much improved as carefully contained. She wanted nothing more than to hole up in her new quarters, but to do so would give the uncomfortably accurate impression that she was sulking, and Alliance marines didn't _sulk_. So she bypassed the closed hatchway and made her way to the auto-chef for what was becoming her customary late-night mug of coffee, nodding to the two crewmen played cards at the mess's only table.

She made her way down to the cargo bay where her newest additions had taken up residence. She found Williams up to her elbows in munitions and gun mods, having set up shop at the weapons station. The commander had tasked the chief with inventorying their current supplies, and the young woman had taken to the task with gusto. Not wanting to disturb her, Shepard instead made her way to the Normandy's newest turian guest.

She sincerely hoped this one fared better than the last.

He looked up from his inspection of the _Normandy's _only drop vehicle as she approached. "Thanks for bringing me on board, Commander. I knew working with a Spectre would be better than life at C-Sec."

"I'd give it a minute before you form that opinion, we're just getting started here. Have you worked with a Spectre before?"

He flexed the metallic plates that ran along the side of his jaw in was she guessed was the turian equivalent of a shrug. "Well, no. But I know what they're like. Spectres make their own rules. You're free to handle things your way. At C-Sec, you're buried by rules. The damn bureaucrats are always on your back."

She leaned a shoulder against the _Mak_o and crossed her arms, mug still in hand. "For the most part, the rules are there for a reason."

"You'd make a good turian, Commander. You sound just like us. I just feel like sometimes the rules are only there to stop me from doing my work. If I'm trying to take down a suspect, it shouldn't matter how I do it, as long as I do it. But C-Sec wants it done their way, proper paperwork stamped and filed in triplicate. Protocol and procedure come first. That's why I left."

"So you just quit because you didn't like the way they do things?" _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea._

He seemed to pick up on the skepticism in her tone as he quickly elaborated. "There's more to it than that. It didn't start out bad, but as I rose in ranks, I got saddled with more and more red tape. C-Sec's handling of Saren was typical. I just couldn't take it anymore. I hate leaving..."

"I hope you made the right choice, Garrus. I'd hate for you to regret it later."

"Well, that's sort of why I asked to come along with you. It's a chance for me to get off the Citadel, see how things are done outside C-Sec. Either way, I plan to make the most of this. And without headquarters looking over my shoulder, well, maybe I can get the job done my way for a change."

"This is still an Alliance boat, Vakarian. The military can be rather particular about protocol. 'But I'm a Spectre' won't get me very far with the brass."

"Don't worry Commander. I'll keep clear."

* * *

><p>Engineer Adams had his nose buried deep in a console when the commander meandered into the engine room. Even at this hour techs scurried about around him, seeing to various thises and thats as the drive core hummed merrily in the background. He glanced up as she approached.<p>

"Hey Commander. Come to check on your new ride?" He patted the console before him affectionately.

"That and to see how our guests are settling in. How's she doing?" Shepard nodded to the quarian currently leaning far enough over the railing towards the tantalus drive to be some cause for concern. She wondered how much paperwork she'd have to fill out if the young woman were to accidentally electrocute herself.

"Well, it seems. She hasn't left the engine room since she got her, keeps asking all kinds of questions about the core."

Shepard frowned. "Is she bothering you? I can tell her to leave you alone."

"What?" Adams seemed taken aback. "No! That's not what I meant at all. She's brilliant. If all quarians are like her, every Alliance ship should have one. Give her a month on board and she'll know more about our engines than I do, she's already made a few suggestions to improve the drive's efficiency. I wish my guys were half as smart as she is; she's got a real knack for technology. I can see why you invited her along."

"I figured after she hacked that geth by herself she might fit in around here."

Tali took that moment to wander over to the two marines, seemingly oblivious that she was the topic of conversation.

"Your ship's amazing, Shepard!" she gushed. "I've never seen a drivecore like this before; I can't believe you were able to fit it into a ship this small. I'm starting to understand why you humans have been so successful. I had no idea Alliance vessels were so advanced!"

Adams smiled. "The _Normandy's_ special. She's a prototype, bleeding edge technology."

Tali shook her helmeted head in wonder. "A month ago I was patching a makeshift fuel line into a converted tug ship in the flotilla. Now I'm sitting on board one of the most advanced vessels in Citadel space. Thank you again for bringing me along Shepard, traveling on a vessel like this is a dream come true for me."

"I didn't realize you were so interested in ship tech."

Tali shrugged. "It's necessity. The Fleet is the key to the survival of my people. Ships are our most valuable resource but we don't have anything like this. We scrounge and barter for what we can, making do with cast-off and second-hand equipment. We just try to keep them running for as long as we can. Some of the Fleet's larger vessels date all the way back to our original flight from Rannoch."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "That was over 300 years ago; I can't believe your fleet's still using ships that are three centuries old."

"It's not like all the equipment is that old. They're constantly being repaired, modified, and refitted. They aren't pretty, but they work. Mostly."

"You should have a look at our auto-chef," Shepard joked, "maybe you can get it to make something resembling drinkable coffee."

The quarian shook her head. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know how it was supposed to taste, and I couldn't test it even if I did. I'm pretty sure it would poison me."

"So it has the same effect on quarians as it does humans. It was worth a shot."

"Well, if it's so important I could probably give it a try." The quarian raised her omni'tool and began entering commands. "Maybe if I could develop a compound to swap the chirality of the molecules-"

Shepard held up a hand. "It's ok, don't worry about it. It's a running joke, 'chef brew is notoriously terrible."

Tali lowered her 'tool hesitantly. "Then why do humans seem to drink so much of it?"

Shepard shrugged. "It's necessity."

"I see. I didn't realize you were so dependent upon it."

"The Commander is teasing you, Tali," Adams put in. "Not everyone here is addicted to caffeine"

Shepard took a pull from her mug. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tali looked back and forth between the two marines, confusion evident in the gesture. "You humans have strange senses of humor."

* * *

><p>She met no one else on her way back to the cargo bay until she almost literally ran into Wrex as she rounded the corner of the elevator.<p>

The krogan was lounging against the bulkhead glaring off into space. At first she thought he hadn't noticed her, but after a moment he turned with what she assumed was the krogan equivalent of a grin. It certainly involved showing a lot of teeth.

"Nice ship you got here, Shepard. Did you want something?"

She shrugged. "Just checking to see how you're settling in."

"Krogan don't 'settle'."

"Semantics; do you have everything you need?" She set her mug on top of a nearby locker.

"You have running water and a consistent source of food. That's luxury enough for me. Even if the food tastes like something a varren coughed up."

She had to stop herself from asking exactly how Wrex would know what varren sick tasted like. Only danger lay in that line of questioning, hell if she knew what krogan ate. "Not often I hear Alliance Military vessels referred to as 'luxury'."

"When you've seen as many ships as I have you come to recognize simple pleasures. Such as not having to sleep with a loaded gun as a pillow."

_Do krogan even have pillows?_ "I thought all krogan slept on their feet with their eyes open anyway."

"Only the ones that live past puberty. But you didn't come down here just to chit-chat about my sleeping habits. What do you want?"

She found herself mirroring his pose, leaning with one shoulder against the elevator shaft, arms folded. "Fair enough, I'll cut to the chase. I need to know now if I'm going to have a problem between you and Vakarian. I understand krogans and turians don't exactly get along."

He made a noise halfway between a snort and a growl. "If by that you mean one would happily wipe the other from off the face of the galaxy and the other already gave it a try, then yeah, we 'don't exactly get along'."

"This is a brand new ship, Wrex. I'll not have you putting holes in it."

"I make no promises, Shepard. You best tell that damn turian to watch himself."

"I'm not your messenger, and I'm sure as hell not your mother. You two are both adults and I expect you to behave as such."

When he didn't answer she pushed off from the wall to stand up straight. "Look, I sympathize, I really do. Your species got fucked. On Earth we call what the turians did to the krogan a war crime. But this is my ship and this is my show, and if that's going to be an issue for you, I'll dump your ass on the next rock we pass. And if you're very, very lucky, I'll stop the ship first. The same goes for 'that damn turian'. Do I make myself clear?"

The krogan dropped his arms and straightened up to his full height, towering a good foot and a half over her head. He narrowed his eyes at her. It took more effort than she liked to admit to keep from recoiling away from the angry krogan. How could she have forgotten how _big_ they were? She lifted her chin and glared back, pressing her mouth into a hard line. She'd be damned if she let anyone intimidate her on her own boat, and after usurping it out from under Anderson, she was just about ready for an excuse to fight.

She was almost disappointed when Wrex snorted and slouched back against the bulkhead. Almost. "You've got quad, Shepard, I'll give you that. I won't start anything with your pet turian so long as he stays out of my way."

She supposed she would have to be satisfied with that. The krogan lapsed into silence, resuming his careful inspection of something only he could see. She left him to it.

* * *

><p>Having had to assert her new-found authority for the first time, the commander decided it was past time to swallow the remains of her reservations and get on with it. Back on the command deck she paused for a moment before the holographic projection of the Milky Way. She'd seen this sort of array before, but never on this scale and never up close. It was quite beautiful, a welcome break from the spartan decor of the rest of the ship. The military didn't place much priority on aesthetics, but even the Alliance couldn't detract from the galaxy's natural majesty. In default mode the display spun slowly, bright points of light winking and flickering off the bulkhead. Glancing around she noticed she wasn't the only one who stopped to admire the projection. She allowed herself a moment longer to admire the view, then passed her hand through the display. <em>Ok, back to work slacker.<em> The display magnified that section of stars, systems jumping into clearer focus.

She hunted through the points of light until she located the one she needed. Feros. Technically the Artemis Tao cluster was closer, a mere two jumps away to Feros's three, but if there was a chance those colonists were still alive, she had to take it. They didn't have time for her to hunt through an entire system looking for one woman. That asari scientist and her mother would just have to wait.


	7. Better Late

_...Though originally formed in order to protect the Citadel Council during the Krogan Rebellion, the duties of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agents have since expanded to include defending the safety and stability of all Citadel space. Spectres answer only to the Council, utilize no form of command structure, and are generally left with nothing more than their own moral compass for guidance. While Spectres are granted the authority to act in any way they deem necessary __to achieve their objectives__, due to the rigorous selection process very few ever go rogue. When they do, it is not without dire consequence._

- Jathran Ran'dah, _A Short History of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Task Force_ (revised)

* * *

><p>Well, at least now they knew why no one in the spaceport had answered the <em>Normandy's<em> hail.

Another series of rockets bombarded her scant cover, bursting apart like over-ripe, flaming melons. She ducked low, blinking furiously to clear her watering eyes of the spotty afterimages. Goddamn she hated those things. In the lull that followed the barrage she knelt around the corner to survey what could be seen from her limited vantage point. The port was deserted - save for the geth roaming the corridors – and had probably been so for some time. It seemed a safe bet that her ground crew contained the only living beings in the surrounding area. That did not bode well at all for the colony.

In the corner of her visor the heads-up display pinged to life as a well-placed shot from Vakarian felled his rival sniper. The source of the jamming static eliminated, she was finally allowed an accurate count of their remaining foes. Four. _Oh. Well that's not so bad –_

She vaulted over the low barrier, earning a startled yelp from its now sole occupant. Tali scrambled to her feet, spraying rounds rather haphazardly at a nearby trooper in what the commander assumed was supposed to be covering fire. She heard Alenko's sigh over the comm as he dropped whatever it was that he had been doing and added his efforts to the quarian's.

Ignoring them both, Shepard advanced on the pile of geth, grenade in hand. She'd been looking forward to trying out her new toys since she found them in the C-Sec requisitions office. Supposedly the high explosive model was designed for penetrating the geth's energy fields and armor plating, though how the hell Aegohr Munitions could boast that when the synthetics hadn't been see this side of the Veil in three centuries was beyond her. Most likely they were full of shit, but who was she to pass up the opportunity for a little play-testing. Damn, she should have offered her field data in exchange for a bulk discount. _Next time._

The device adhered itself to the geth's armor with a satisfying _thunk_ half a second before it detonated. Tungsten shrapnel erupted out like confetti, carving a chuck out of the synthetic's torso and slicing through its neighbors' shields. Without their tech to deflect projectiles, the two and a half machines were quickly felled by her team of six. The remaining geth spared from the effects of the grenade fell back down the passage away from the spaceport.

They made their way cautiously after it, but it wasn't long before the renewed splash of static alerted the commander of the proximity of yet more geth. _These things are fuckin' everywhere__._ Ahead, a bend in the corridor restricted her line of sight. She motion for the others to hang back as she scouted the seemingly abandoned staircase.

The steps leading down had fallen away some time ago, collapsed into rubble several flights below, but the way up remained relatively intact. She peered up the ancient stairwell, craning her neck to see past the steep switchback blocking her view of the upper levels. She had barely begun the ascent when a blur of motion caught her eye. The sniper round skittered off her armor as she flung herself backwards, taking cover and sweeping her rifle's sites back up the flight of stairs. The empty flight of stairs. The hell? She glanced up the stairwell again, then down into its depths. Then her gaze shot back up again.

The son of a bitch was on the ceiling. What. The. Fuck.

The grey and white machine clung to the bottom of the next landing up, limbs splayed wide and red laser sights cast from what Williams had aptly described as its 'flashlight' head. Despite the billions of kilometers separating both their home worlds - not to mention the completely divergent paths of evolution - with its joined legs and splayed toes the geth bore a very keen resemblance to a terrestrial frog. But, you know, not green. And considerably better equipped. Can frogs even climb walls?

Her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of the frog-geth's companions. Chunks flew from her pillar as she ducked back around the other side. Behind her, the rest of her squad took up defensive positions, occupying the geth while she repositioned. Without warning the frog launched itself into the air, colliding with the wall adjacent to her cover and clinging there with blatant disregard of gravity. Startled, Shepard lashed out reflexively with a biotic field. The crackling wave enveloped the machine and she _pulled_.

At first nothing happened, as whatever form of voodoo allowing the heavy machine to ignore physics resisted her efforts. Then with a flare of dark energy that she felt in her teeth, the force shorted out and she yanked the thing into the air with her own space magic. She held it steady while the others finished it and its buddies.

She let the remains fall to the floor in a heap and knelt down beside it. Her lieutenant joined her on the ground while the others peaked over their shoulders. "Mass effect fields?" She prodded the pad of one of the machine's four limbs.

"Probably. My guess would be it creates tiny singularities or high-intensity van der Waals forces to allow it to cling to vertical surfaces like that."

She made a face. "That's just cheating."

"It's pretty clever," Tali said, "but it must require a large amount of power to support something as heavy as a geth. Though this one _is_ pretty small. Look how thin its plating is, one good hit to the torso and it's all over."

"Great," Williams muttered. "Now we have to watch the ceilings, too."

"It's a good policy anyway, haven't you seen _Aliens_? The monsters are always on the ceiling."

"Not much for classic cinema, ma'am."

Shepard tsked. "They're classics for a reason, Chief." She stood up, brushing bits of plaster from her armor. "Alright, get what you can from the data core and let's go. The camp can't be far now."

* * *

><p>They hit the first of Zhu's Hope's fortifications half a kilometer later. Makeshift barriers choked the hallway, dead-eyed colonists huddled together behind their meager protection. After weeks under siege, even the presence of Shepard and her eclectic crew failed to raise much reaction.<p>

The group moved slowly through the encampment towards a larger structure that seemed to serve as the main living quarters. The place was a mess. Rubble lay everywhere and some structures were still on fire. Around them people bent silently to their tasks, entirely indifferent to the presence of new-comers. Save for the occasional staccato of automatic fire, the settlement was eerily quiet.

At the far end of the compound they were directed to a man named Fai Dan. He was deep in conversation with the woman next to him, but as the party approached he broke off.

"You must be with that ship we just saw. I'm glad the Alliance finally sent somebody to help us."

The woman beside him scowled and crossed her arms. "You're a bit late, aren't you?"

"Arcelia!" Fai Dan gave her a warning look. "I apologize, ma'am, everyone's on edge since the attacks began. There seems to be no end to them."

Shepard dismissed the woman's hostile tone with a wave. "Forget it. What's the situation here? What are they after?"

"How the hell should we know?" the woman called Arcelia asked. "Go ask them yourselves."

"You may know more than you think," the commander said patiently. "When did the attacks start? Do the geth come at random intervals or is there a pattern? Do they focus on any particular area? What direction do they come from?

Fai Dan scrubbed a hand over his face. "They first showed up about a week ago. We don't know what they're after. They came, they attacked us and they haven't stopped since. That's all we know. Their main base is at the ExoGeni facility. I would start there if you want answers."

"ExoGeni?"

"It's the company most of us worked for before the attacks. They fund this colony."

_Well, they're doing a hell of a job._ "Alright, where can I find the facility?"

"The skyway leads directly to it. The elevator in the hall will get you up there."

"Of course, there's an army of geth between here and -," Arcelia was interrupted as a missile sailed over their heads. It struck the freighter behind them and sent the surrounding colonists scurrying for cover. "_Shit!_" she spat, yanking Fai Dan back away from the approaching forces. "We've got geth in the tower! Protect the colony!"

More of the machines flooded into the hallway beyond and the civilians around them took up stations behind their makeshift fortifications. Shepard took a knee and leaned around a divider. She caught one of the intruders in the "face", sending it staggering back before it retreated back into the hallway. She sent a grenade spinning after it and the rest quickly withdrew back down the corridor. Her team pushed forward, herding them away from the colony.

The hall ended in another series of stairways. They drove back them into the split level, the geth retreating up the higher of the stairwells. She pressed hard on their heels, perusing them up to the next landing and the hard 180 degree turn up to the next flight. Directly into a pair of colonists.

She heard them before she saw them, their startled cries magnified in the stone stairwell. Oh no. As she made it to the landing she saw the first fall. His companion gave a terrified wail and fled back behind a stone barrier. The first of the geth charged past and around the bend into the hallway, but one broke off to pursue the colonist.

Shepard surged up the stairs, hurling a mnemonic that was sloppy with haste. The pitiful flare splattered against the machine's plating, dissipating with a fizzle. She paused halfway up to summon a new corona, but before the energy fully formed the geth withdrew down the corridor. She pelted after it.

At the top she found both men on the ground, motionless. She spun back to the retreating geth, flinging all the energy she could muster. The field left her hand in a crackling wave, batting aside one machine and engulfing two more. The force of her _push_ crushed them against the far wall, parts and hydraulic fluid gushing out to soak the floor beneath.

She stalked the last one down the corridor, trusting her shields and _barrier_ to absorb the fleeing machine's fire as she answered with her own relentless barrage. When her rifle burned red in protest, she dropped it and snagged her sidearm, finishing the geth with a final round through its optic lens. She stood breathing heavily as the machine crumpled to the ground, pistol trained on its inert form.

Slowly she lowered the gun as the rest of her squad filed into the hall. She turned to see Alenko on the landing, searching the fallen civilians for signs of life. His shoulders slumped and he rocked back on his heels. _God fucking dammit._ This was her fault. She had driven the geth right at them. What were they even doing up here? How had the geth gotten between them?

Her fingers began to ache and she realized she still clutched her pistol in one hand. She shoved it back in its holster and took a breath. _Focus_. Beside her Wrex kicked the remains of the geth before them appreciatively as the rest of the group gathered around them. The lieutenant retrieved her assault rifle from where it had fallen. "Commander, are you -"

She cut him off. "Williams, take Wrex and Tali back to the colony. I want you there to protect them from another attack while the rest of us search the towers. The geth must be here for a reason, if we can figure out why we may be able to drive them back into whatever hole they crawled out of."

The chief eyed her charges warily. "Are you sure _you_ don't want the krogan, ma'am? He seems to like pulling the toasterheads apart."

"I'm standing right here," he grumbled.

Shepard ignored him. "All the more reason to keep him at the colony, I doubt the geth are done with it yet."

The chief shrugged and started back towards the camp, not bothering to check if the others were following. Wrex rolled his eyes and followed, Tali trailing behind.

* * *

><p>"What is it?" She stepped delicately over the body of the last krogan mercenary, circumventing the growing pool of coolant leaking from its companions and approached the twinkling device. It whirled and chirped as if in greeting, the merry sounds a stark contrast with the grizzly scene that surrounded it.<p>

Vakarian stowed his rifle and bent down to pry open the panel at its base. "A computer."

She glared at him. "Yes, thank you, even I can tell that. What does it _do_?"

"No idea." He began poking around in the machine's innards.

Alenko knelt at his side and began scanning the machine. "Whatever it's for, the level of encryption is impressive. Check out the tertiary proxy-barriers."

The turian leaned over to peer at the glowing screen. "Huh. Kinda makes the independent dual-packet filters redundant. Is that a…?"

"Yeah. But they routed it through the protocol filter."

"Would that even work?"

"Well, it might if—"

The commander cleared her throat. "Anytime now, gentlemen."

"Right." The lieutenant got to his feet. "Basically it's a souped-up, long-range transmitter."

"Okaaaay. What's it transmitting?" She nudged the winking machine with her toe suspiciously.

"Could be anything. It's big, whatever it is."

"So, important then."

"Judging by the way they were protecting it, I would say, 'yes'."

"Good." She drew her sidearm and shot it. The spinning diode on top exploded in a shower of sparks and the machine powered down with a disappointed-sounding whirl.

"Spirits!" Vakarian rocked back on his heels away from the now smoking machine. He gaped up at her from where he'd landed on the ground

She looked down at him. "What?"

"Uh, nothing. Commander."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: I am aware that Geth Hoppers don't actually use mass-effect fields to climb walls, but I find it improbable that something that large could be supported by "tiny hooks on its hands and feet". It makes more sense that they would use the provided space magic that has already been proven to ignore gravity. Also it sounds cooler.<em>


	8. The Runaround

"_Named for Johannes Kepler, the Space Mission's purpose was the discovery of Earth-sized planets located within the habitable, or "Goldilocks" zone. That, for those of you who slept through last lecture, is the region around a star in which a planet can support liquid water. Now, what were they really looking for? Possible sites for colonization, sure, but what else?_

"_Aliens! They were looking for life! Granted, water is only one of the ingredients required for life as we know it, but it's kind of a biggie. Original findings suggested there may be as many as eleven billion Earth-sized planets orbiting Sol-like stars. Pretty optimistic, right? The zone's not that big, most stars the size of ours can probably only fit one, _maybe_ two planets. By that logic, almost three percent of the estimated four hundred billion stars are potentially fostering planets with liquid water. Of course, we now know that estimate to be a bit on the high side. Does anyone know the current figure?_

"_Point zero-one-seven, that's correct. Point zero-one-seven percent of the stars in our galaxy are estimated to have planets located in the region that can support liquid water. Doesn't sound like much, does it? Any math majors in here? How many planets is that? _

"_Sixty-eight million! Wow. Sixty-eight million planets that might have water. Sixty-eight million planets that might have one of the basic building blocks for carbon-based life. Sixty-eight million potential ecosystems of extra terrestrial life. Now that's a hell of a lot of aliens."_

- partial transcript of Professor Sanderson's lecture the_Fundamentals of Astrobiology_, part 2

* * *

><p>The sudden crackle of static over the comm startled the commander out of her focused state. She swerved to avoid a make-shift barrier behind which her quarry had taken refuge, clipping the side and sending it flying back into its former occupants. They scattered like marbles, leaving themselves vulnerable to the lumbering <em>Mako's<em> cannons. She veered again, catching a lone survivor under her treads and dragging the vehicle over the top of it. The ATV lurched nauseatingly as they moved onwards, their acceleration marked by a slight fishtail. She was never going get a handle on these damn controls.

"What's with the comms, Alenko?" The skyway's edge wandered uncomfortably close and she nudged the ungainly vehicle back away from the drop.

He frowned into his omni-tool. "Not sure. We seem to be picking up some garbled cross-chatter."

"From the camp? If they had a radio this whole time why the hell didn't they answer our hail?"

Another burst of noise drowned out whatever response the lieutenant had intended. A few words could be made out from amongst the junk signal. "_bzzt— could still – in there – bzzzt —my daughter, asshole—." _

"Try to clean it up," Shepard said. "I think I heard the 'g' word in there some—aw, fuck." She broke off as she rode over the fallen body of a geth trooper, the unyielding form spinning the _Mako_ headlong into another barrier.

"'G' word?" murmured Vakarian to the lieutenant.

"Geth."

"Oh. Why didn't she just say that?"

Alenko shrugged.

"_- 'nother vehicle—coming-."_

"I don't think it's from Zhu's Hope, Commander. The signal's getting stronger."

"Well, whoever they are they know we're here."

"Fuck it, we're walking the rest of the way."

She brought the _Mako_ to a lurching stop. Ahead of them loomed the remains of a soaring skyscraper, the side of which had been sheared away by time or ancient attack. A shallow ramp led deep under the rubble, the muffled sound of voices echoing upwards.

"Well, they're obviously not geth," Vakarian muttered as they made their ways slowly into the ruin's interior.

A small group of humans had made camp amongst the rubble, the worn symbol of the ExoGeni company emblazoned on what remained of their uniforms. From the looks of things they had been camped for as long as Zhu's Hope had been under siege. Their arrival caused a stir amongst the survivors.

"Relax Jeong, they're obviously not geth," an authoritative woman reassured the man beside her.

"That doesn't mean they're not with them." He rounded on them. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Alliance Military. We're investigating the report of geth in this area."

"You see?" said the woman. "You worry too much."

"And you trust too easily."

"Please excuse my associate." The woman extended a hand. "I'm Juliana Baynham. I thought we were the only humans left on this planet."

Shepard took the hand and raised an eyebrow. "Zhu's Hope is in bad shape, but they're still holding on."

The woman's eyes went wide. "You said they were all _dead." _

She glared at Jeong accusingly and he put up his hands to ward her off. "I said they were 'probably' all dead."

"There's a big difference between 'probably' and 'actually', Jeong!"

"They're surviving, but the geth really hit them hard," Vakarian said.

The woman rubbed her face tiredly. "We know what that's like. Those damn machines are relentless."

"They must have a base nearby, do you know where it is?" the commander asked.

"You're almost there. They're holed up in the ExoGeni headquarters, just a bit further down the skyway."

"Those headquarters are private property, soldier," Jeong interupted. "Remove the geth and nothing else."

Shepard fixed him with a stare she normally reserved for raw recruits misbehaving on shore leave. The man wilted under its weight. "Do I look like I have time to be concerned with your company's petty secrets?" She let some of her scorn seep into her voice. "I'll thank you not to interfere with a _military_ operation."

The man cleared his throat and looked away.

"Commander, before you go... My daughter, Lizbeth. She's missing..." Juliana's tired face creased with concern.

"They shouldn't waist time poking around. We can do a proper accounting of our casualties after the geth are gone."

The woman rounded on him. "That's my daughter you're talking about! She's still alive. I know it."

"She's been trapped in there for days, Juliana. It's hopeless."

"That's what you said about Zhu's Hope –"

"Where is she?" Shepard cut in before the two could rehash what was clearly an old argument.

"She was working in the ExoGeni building when the attacks came."

"Oh, yeah! There are several places she could hide. For a short time." Jeong's tone was less than optimistic.

" If she's in there, I'll find her."

" Thank you, Commander. Thank you."

_Don't thank me yet._

* * *

><p>Eventually the skyway narrowed and they were forced to abandon the <em>Mako<em>. The glowing red trail betrayed the presence of one of the hopper type geth and the three took cover before it could get a bead on them.

They quickly fell into what had become an easy routine. Grouped closely in protective cover, the three took turns firing on the geth in a rotating wave until either weapons or shields gave out, while the other two sabotaged the machines' defenses or immobilized them with mass effect fields, depending on the individual's personal strengths.

When the last of the synthetics had been reduced to its component parts, the three of them spread out to investigate their new surroundings. They were in what looked to be the remains of an ancient entry way large enough to park a dozen _Makos_. Part of the ceiling had caved in and the far side of the chamber ended in a steep wall of rubble. A raised walkway lead up into the depths of the building. To the left was a doorway blocked by a field of shimmering blue light. Shepard approached the barrier with caution, the energy resonance making her skin crawl. When her presence failed to cause any reaction, she reached out and prodded the field with a finger. Solid. When she withdrew her hand, static arced softly along her glove and the amp at the nape of her neck gave small pop. Reflexively she clapped a hand over the armor protecting it.

"Dark energy?" her lieutenant asked.

"Yeah. Thoughts?"

"Nothing useful." He scanned it with his 'tool, keying in commands as the holograph swept across it. The door remained stubbornly shielded. "Looks like whatever's powering it is on the other side."

"Of course it is."

Beside them a partially collapsed hallway plunged deeper into the ruins. Shepard eyed it suspiciously, then shrugged and hopped down into the darkened passage.

Liquid sloshed softly around her booted feet as she waded across the remnant of the great room and she was glad for the environmental seals built to keep out more than just a little water. Ugh, she hoped that was water. The murky liquid covered the ground in several inches, concealing in its depth a treacherously uneven surface. Rubble shifted beneath her feet as they progressed and she stumbled more than a few times. As they neared the far wall a splash came from behind her, accompanied by a lengthy string of turian profanity that made her translator stutter. She turned to find Vakarian picking himself up off the ground, shoulders hunched.

She hid a smile, pretending to examine the chamber around them as the young turian scrambled to his feet. "Haven't heard that one before," she said in her best conversational tone. "What's it mean?"

"Er, I don't know the exact translation," he said sheepishly. "Something like, 'stupid son of a drooling whore and a pyjak'."

"Hah!" The loud bark of laughter startled her almost as much as her companions and Vakarian's mandibles flared wide. Behind him Alenko let out a low chuckle.

"I like it," she said as they resumed their march. "I'll have to use it on Udina sometime."

Her HUD registered the red blip of a solitary weapon a heartbeat before a shot went wide over the trio's heads.

"Damn it!"

Shepard lowered her weapon slowly as a woman stood up from behind a pile of fallen rubble. Her clothing was torn and dirty, but the familiar corporate logo of ExoGeni was still visible on her shoulder.

"I am _so_ sorry. I thought you were geth, or one of those varren."

Behind her she heard the click of holstered weapons as she put her own away. "It's a damn good thing for you that there are killer robots literally roaming these halls, because otherwise I'd have some choice words for you about your gun etiquette. What are you doing down here?"

"I'm sorry. It's my own fault. Everyone else was running and I stayed behind to back up data. Next thing I knew, the geth ship latched on and the power went out. I was trapped. I tried to get out, but the way was blocked."

"A few geth won't stop us," Vakarian said.

The woman shook her head. "It's not the geth; it's the energy field they put up. They don't want anyone else getting access to the –" she cut herself off and winced.

_Oh for fuck's sake._ It was all the commander could do to keep her tone even. "Lady, please don't waste my time. I don't give a rat's ass about whatever secretive, proprietary and most likely illegal bullshit ExoGeni gets up to out here in the ass-end of the galaxy. I'm here for the killer robots. It's very important that I find out what they're after."

The woman at least had the good graces to look abashed. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know for certain, but I'm guessing they're here for the Thorian."

"What's a Thorian?" Vakarian asked.

"It's an indigenous life-form. ExoGeni was studying it."

"What makes you think the geth would be interested in it?" asked the commander.

"I don't know, it's just a plant, but it's the only thing of note that ExoGeni is currently studying here besides the ruins themselves. I don't even think they've found anything special about it."

"Then what makes you think the geth care?"

"Because the labs with the thorian research are the ones they hit first. As far as I know they're still in there, I didn't stick around to find out."

"What about the data you backed up, does it have anything about this plant thing?"

"It doesn't matter, I had to leave before the backup was complete. The disk is still in the terminal."

"Of course it is."

"I'll tell you what I know about the thorian, but not with those geth crawling around everywhere. Look, we need to get out of here, past that field."

"Alright, fine, how do we deactivate it?"

"I don't know, it's not a part of our facility. But I think the geth ship is powering it. I saw the geth laying power cables everywhere. You could follow those cables, but there's geth all over the place.

She sighed. "Stay here. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p>The marines and the turian returned more quickly that she expected. The woman's face was sour and a nasty chuck was missing from the left shoulder-plate of her armor. Behind her the plates of her turian companion were singed black and the other human walked with a limp. The commander flung a data disc at Lizbeth's feet. "What did I say?" she demanded.<p>

Lisbeth swallowed hard. "I-"

"I said I didn't care about your illegal-ass research. I said I needed to find what the geth were after. Most importantly, I said, 'Don t. Waste. My. Time.'" She punctuated the last few words with four menacing steps forward.

Lizbeth shrunk back from the angry marine. "I'm sorry! I-I was afraid. I wanted to stop the tests, but they threatened me. Told me I'd be next. When the geth attacked I stayed behind to send a message to colonial affairs. I tried to tell them where to find the thorian, but the power cut before I could send the message. I-I never meant for this to happen."

"Just tell us what you know," the lieutenant said gently.

"The thorian is underneath Zhu's Hope, but the entrance is blocked. The colonists covered it with the freighter just before the geth attacked."

"But why are the geth after it? What does Saren want with it?" Shepard asked.

"The thorian displays unique mind control capabilities. That's what ExoGeni was interested in."

"_Mind _control_?_" The commander shared a doubtful look with her companions. "How –" She stopped mid-sentence and cupped a hand over her ear.

"What-" Lizbeth began, but the commander waved her to silence.

"What is it _Normandy_?" Shepard paused, listening to an answer Lizbeth couldn't hear. The scientist shifted nervously and glanced through the now-open doorway. The corridor beyond was draped in shadows, but to her anxious eyes it seemed that every dark corned housed some lurking beast. Not for the first time that day did she wish that she were anywhere else in the galaxy but here.

"Thanks, Joker," the commander said, severing her connection with her ship. To the waiting group she said, "We've got geth incoming. Time to make like a tree and get the fuck out of here."


End file.
